


You're in my veins (and I cannot get you out)

by junsnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Expect some angst in the future when the plot kicks in, F/M, Jealous Jon, Jealous!Sansa, Jealousy, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Jon and Sansa are both 17, Jon has a big fat crush on Sansa, Jon is a foster kid, Mentions of past abuse, Modern AU, Porn with eventual plot!, Possessive Behavior, Sansa knows it, Secret Relationship, Smut, Sneaking Around, So she decides to help him out, The Starks take him in, There’s smut from the first chapter so y’all don’t have to wait!, if you know what i mean ;), jealous!Jon, nothing graphic though, possessive!Jon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-05-31 13:55:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15120851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junsnow/pseuds/junsnow
Summary: In the past year-and-a-half the Starks had taken in Jon Snow as a foster kid, he’d settled in perfectly. The only one who he doesn't seem to view as family, though, is Sansa. She's also the only one to notice the cause for this is that his feelings for her aredefinitelynot brotherly.To fix that, Sansa has a plan: have sex with him.What could possibly go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "In My Veins" by Andrew Belle. Inspiration from actual porn lol. Enjoy, ya horndogs.

Sansa knew her foster brother had a crush on her. For the past year-and-a-half her parents had taken him in, he’d settled just fine, bonding with her parents and her siblings as if they were his own. But not with her. No, he’d always kept his distance from her, and Sansa knew why. Jon Snow was _obsessed_ with her.

He was clearly terrible with girls, and the only girlfriend he’d ever had—a weird girl by the name of Ygritte, a _redhead_ , if she might add—dumped him after a mere month, before he could even make it to third base. It wasn’t his fault, though. Jon was just nervous. And while it was annoying to have him gawking at her when she was by the pool or even the occasional raid to her panty drawer, Sansa couldn’t bring herself to be mad. She felt bad for him.

Jon wasn’t ugly—far from it, actually, he was rather attractive, with his curly dark hair and his pouty lips—he just lacked confidence. And with the way he was fixated on her, Sansa couldn’t imagine he would get anywhere with another girl any time soon. So she decided a little help from her was needed.

You see, Jon wasn’t really in love with her. He was just a horny teenage boy. He needed to get laid, and once he did, he would be ready to move on. A little boost in his confidence would set him right and then he would be able to talk to girls without stammering like a dork. Sansa would do him a favor by having sex with him. Not like it would be a huge sacrifice either—like she said, Jon looked just fine. One fuck and it would all be over. Problem solved. Maybe they would even get along like her other siblings did.

All Sansa had to do was wait for a day when everyone else would be out so she could make her move. It was a hard enough task with two parents and four siblings living there, but it was of the utmost importance. If they were caught, there was no telling what her parents would do, and Sansa had no interest in finding out. If child services got word of it, Jon could even be moved to a different home, despite being almost 18, and she wanted to help him, not ruin his life after he finally found a good home and a family that cared for him. She had to be careful about this.

A couple of weeks went by where Sansa pretended, as usual, that she didn’t notice Jon’s eyes on her. And if she purposefully wore shorter shorts and tighter tops and decided to go for more swims in the pool wearing her tiniest bikinis, well, no one would know, would they? And _maybe_ she noticed her favorite lace panties went missing, and _maybe_ she caught him in his room holding them to his face while he jerked off, and that _may_ have shot a spark of arousal between her legs, but that’s nobody’s business. Who could blame her if she found having such an effect on someone thrilling? She was a teenager, she needed a little confidence boost from time to time, too.

Finally, the day Sansa was waiting for finally arrived. It was a Friday. Her dad had a work meeting, her mother had her book club, Arya had a fencing competition, Robb had a date with Margaery, Bran was shooting a film project for the AV club and Rickon had a sleepover at a friend’s house. Normally, Jon would have ice hockey practice, but coach Mormont had canceled practice that afternoon after a bad case of the flu. Sansa didn’t have cheering practice on Fridays, so all that meant she and Jon were finally, decisively, and completely _alone_.

Sansa checked herself in the mirror before walking to his room; she chose a light yellow dress, easy enough to take off, with no bra underneath—she didn’t want Jon to get anxious while trying to undo it with shaky hands, that would only make his confidence worse. Knocking lightly, she came in and found him in his bed looking at his phone. Jon looked up at her quickly before forcing himself to look back at his phone. Sansa noticed how his jaw clenched; she’d never had a reason to go into his room before. _Well, I might as well cut to the chase._ Taking a deep breath, she started.

“Look, Jon, I know you have a crush on me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said, not looking up from his phone.

 _I’ll give him something to look at._ Sansa slipped off her dress.

“You think I wouldn’t notice the way you look at me? Or my panties disappearing since you moved here?”

“I had nothing to do with—WHY are you taking your clothes off?” She’d interrupted his speech by throwing her purple lace underwear at him, making him finally look at her in awe as he grasped the delicate piece of fabric. Sansa climbed on his bed and straddled him with her naked thighs. His eyes strayed to her breasts and the apple of his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“You need to get over me and gain some confidence if you’re ever hoping to pick up any girls.” She fixed the collar of his black polo shirt while she talked, making sure to let the tips of her fingers linger on his chest underneath.

“Are you for real right now?”

“Jon.” She fixed him with her stare, letting her palms slide to his clothed chest.

“Yes?”

“We’re gonna have sex.” Her hips grinded against his to illustrate her point. She could feel his dick hardening under her; she rubbed her naked center against the rough fabric of his jeans and moaned at the feeling. It was certain to leave a patch of wetness on his pants.

“Okay.” He whimpered.

“And once we get past this…”

“ _Uhuh_.”

“…You’ll be just fine.”

At last, she raised his chin and met him in a wet kiss. His tongue was eager to meet hers, sliding into her mouth to make her moan. Jon took no time to bring his hands to her body, sliding up her ribs to her breasts, which he squeezed, provoking a moan from her before he puckered her nipples with his thumbs. Desperate as he was, Jon was definitely not bad at this. Sansa would even say he was a great kisser when his swollen lips found their way down her neck. She noticed how big his hands were as he held her tits together, and when his tongue circled her nipples and he sucked, it felt _incredible_.

Feeling the need to have more of him touching her, she rushed to take off his shirt, enjoying the feel of his hard packed stomach under her fingernails as he returned his attention to her breasts. He seemed obsessed with them. By the time she had unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, her nipples were pink and swollen, standing out wet and proudly.

They got rid of his pants and boxers at once; Sansa watched his hard cock bounce slightly with the movement, and she couldn’t help but be amazed. She didn’t expect him to be so _big_. Jon wasn’t tall, or particularly large, especially for a hockey player, but his cock was bigger than the ones she’d had before. It was nice and thick, circumcised and with a pink glistening head. She couldn’t resist touching him then, letting her hands go up and down his shaft, tracing that soft little vein that pulsed just beneath the top.

“Sansa, wait,” he groaned. “I wanna eat your pussy first.”

Jon took her hands off him gently, pushing her to lie on her back as he kissed his way down her body. When he finally put his tongue on her cunt, Sansa let out a guttural noise that would have her worried someone would listen were they not alone.

“ _Ughn_ …That feels so good,” she moaned.

She didn’t think he would want to do this. This was all about him—getting him off so he could get over this silly crush and move on. He surprised her, though, licking at her with gusto and moaning in approval, though not as much as she did. Her first orgasm hit her like a truck. Sansa grasped his hair and grinded against his face.

“ _Hmm_ … I waited so long to taste your pussy.” He rasps appreciatively against her sensitive clit. “You taste so good, Sansa.” He laps at her a bit more, until she has the presence of mind to push him to lay on his back again.

Laying between his legs, she grasps his cock. She gives him a long lick and takes him into her mouth.

“Ohh, shit.” Jon groans loudly.

He grasps her hair so it doesn’t fall over her face as she bobs her head up and down his cock. She sucks harder at the head, then slides her tongue down and she takes him deeper, repeating her motions with a wet noise. Jon keeps moaning the same nothings, _oohs_ and _ahhs_ and _Sansa, so good._

“I finally have your lips on my cock. _Fuck_.”

He sounds disbelieving, as if at any moment he would wake up alone in his room with his hands on his dick. Sansa wonders how many times he dreamed of this, if he called out her name when he was alone, too. He’s warm inside her mouth, and she’s curious to know what his cum tastes like, if it would spurt out in large streams, but he stops her and pulls her up.

“C’mere, baby. I want to fuck you now.”

She bites her lip and complies, straddling him again. Reaching back behind her ass, she finds his cock and settles him at her entrance, pushing down with her hips until he’s seated all the way in, making them groan in unison. He curses and grips her ass strongly, helping her move over him. Jon even tilts his hips up, fucking into her. Every time their thrusts meet, it sends a spark of pleasure deep into to her stomach.

“ _Ahhn_ , fuck, your cock feels so good.”

Sansa looks back, wishing he had a full-length mirror somewhere close to his bed, so she could watch better as he spreads her asscheeks apart and drives into her pussy from below. His cock fits her like magic, filling her up and driving her close to edge again. She’s cursing and moaning loudly, bouncing back harder and harder.

“Jon— _ahh_ , I’m gonna cum again.”

A slap on her ass surprises her, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body.

“Yeah? You gonna cum?” He asks, “You like having my cock stretching you, Sansa?”

“Fuck! Yes, yes, I like it!”

He pumps into her faster. “ _Umpf_. Tell me.”

 _Good Gods, how is he_ this _good at this?_ “ _Mmmm_ , I like your cock stretching my pussy—Ahh!”

She finally peaks, her walls clenching tightly around his cock and making her cry out his name. Sansa thought he would have cum by now, but he is still hard inside her, showing no signs of waning. Another surprise. Seems he was full of those.

Jon turns them around and lays her on her side, kissing her shoulders and neck from behind until she’s asking for him again. He pushes her knees closer to her stomach and spreads her nether lips so he can slide back in. He’s leaning up on his elbow behind her back, just enough so he can look down at her—his gaze roams her face, her tits, and behind her ass where his cock is plunging into her. He sets a slower pace this time, driving her mad with shallow thrusts until she’s begging.

“Jon, please…All the way in—AH!” He sinks deep into her, touching a place she’d never felt before and prompting a scream. “ _Mmm_ , do it again, do it again!”

“Again?”

“Yeah.” She nods desperately.

“Again what?” He teases, sliding out almost entirely.

“Put it all the way in, please, all the way in my pussy… _Ahh!_ ”

He pushed in hard, hitting that same spot and making her cry out, again and again and again. _Yes, yes, yes_ , is all she can think.

“Look at me. Look at me while I fuck you.” He grumbles as he reaches out to squeeze one of her breasts.

She does. Sansa is looking at him dead in the eye when her next orgasm hits. It’s the most powerful one she’d ever felt; her body shakes from top to bottom, washing over with wave after wave of pleasure until she’s seeing stars despite her eyes being open. She feels a scream ripping through her throat, leaving it raw. When she stops convulsing, she notices how his pace had picked up with a fury.

“ _Mmm_ …so good, Jon.”

“Sansa,” he grits through clenched teeth, “I’m gonna cum.”

They’d forgone the use of a condom, but Sansa had an easy solution. “You can cum in my mouth. I wanna taste you too.”

“Fuck.” He groans loudly at the suggestion. “You want my cum in your mouth?”

“Yes. Give it to me, Jon.”

She doesn’t need to ask him again. He slips out of her, making her briefly regret her decision—she feels terribly empty. Then he’s kneeling before her face, and she receives him with an open mouth. His deep, satisfied grunt as he spills on her tongue makes her belly swoop. It’s hot and slightly salty, she muses, before swallowing it all down. Jon watches it all from above, transfixed.

Jon lays down next to her, his chest moving up and down as he struggles to catch his breath. He gives her a sheepish smile, as if he hadn’t just effectively fucked her brains out. “So…that was nice.”

She laughs. “It was more than _nice_. Was that really your first time?”

“Yeah, it was. I’m glad it was with you.” His eyes are too tender for her liking, so she changes the subject.

“Well, you are a natural, so… congrats! Now you can fuck whoever you like.” She gets up to put her dress on again, but leaves the panties as a token. He deserves that much after the all orgasms he gave her.

“Wait, wait. You’re leaving already?”

 _He looks adorably confused with his eyebrows scrunched up like that,_ she thinks before chastising herself.

“Yeah, um…I don’t want to risk anyone finding us, you know. They should be getting home soon.”

“Oh! Right. Okay.”

Sansa tries not to remember his dejected look after she leaves his bedroom, but it’s all she thinks about when she rolls awake in bed that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this chapter 99% done for about a week but finals got in the way...Alas, now I'm on break so I should have more time to update. Enjoy!

The following week, Jon seems a new man. Sansa notices the swagger in his walk, the change in his posture, how he seems to stand taller. She can’t help but feel proud—he finally found the confidence he needed, and she had helped him get there.

The one catch was…he still seemed to be obsessed with her. His crush hadn’t diminished—on the contrary, it had gotten _stronger_ , if his heated gaze following her everywhere was anything to go by. Even in school, she couldn’t escape it. She felt him watching her in the hallways, in the classes they shared, during lunch break, at cheerleading practice…

Still, if his eyes lingering on her were the only thing he did, Sansa would have no reason to complain. That wasn’t exactly _new_ , he was just being less discreet about it. No, what threw her was the way Jon was acting around her. He didn’t avoid her anymore; he wasn’t afraid to look, talk, or touch her even if other people were around. _That_ was disconcerting. Whenever they were all watching TV together at home, he would find a way to sit dangerously close to her on the couch, with his thighs touching hers and an arm thrown around the back of her seat. When they had dinner, he would either sit next to her, running the back of his fingers over her leg, or across from her, toeing at her calves under the table. He would offer to wash the dishes whenever she did too, and wasn’t too shy now to show up wearing swim trunks whenever she was lounging by the pool. It was maddening! Sansa was sure if she had to look at Jon Snow’s perfectly sculpted abs _one more time_ , she would go insane.

She had trouble sleeping that week. Whenever she closed her eyes, memories of that afternoon in Jon’s bedroom came crawling back, and no matter how much she touched herself, she couldn’t get rid of the ghost of his fingers on her skin. By next Saturday, Sansa was so tired she ended up falling asleep while laying on a lounge chair by the pool, under the sun’s blazing heat. That is, until someone’s voice startled her awake.

“ _Ouch_. That’s gonna leave a burn.”

Sansa frowned in confusion, until she looked at her back and found it in a shade of pomegranate instead of the usual light peach. “ _Fuck_.” She sat up, immediately regretting her decision when the chair bit into the sunburned skin of her ass, making her wince in pain.

“You okay there?”

Jon was laying on the lounge chair next to hers, a pair of shades on his eyes. He slid them up to rest atop his curls, slowly appraising the damage to her skin.

“Yeah, I’m... _ugh_ , no, I’m not, it hurts.” She gave up on sitting and laid back down on her stomach. “Can you please get me some—”

“—Aloe? I’ve got some right here. Nice and cool.” He produced a bottle from his side, smirking triumphantly. “Want me to spread it on you?”

 _Son of a bitch. He came prepared._ She sighed. “Yes, Jon. Obviously.”

He shot out of his seat at once, sitting by her side and squeezing the aloe from the bottle onto her back with a loud _slurp._ The coolness brought her instant relief, forcing out a gasp she wished she had contained. Jon’s strong hands started to spread the gel on her back, his fingers massaging her from her shoulders to the middle of her back, and lower, lower still, to where the small of her back met her ass.

Sansa tried her hardest to keep inside the moans that threatened to slip out of her throat, but when he finally reached her ass, spreading that cold wetness on her cheeks and giving each a light, simultaneous squeeze, one of those wretched sounds came out. She looked back at him to see if he had noticed and— _Oh Gods, his cock just twitched._

He looked half-hard already. Sansa bit her lip, remembering how he felt inside her; the thought brought a surge of heat between her legs. She was _this_ close to getting on her knees and taking his cock in her mouth, right out in the open, when Bran and Rickon came running through the backyard and cannonballed into the pool with a loud _splash_.

 _What was I thinking?_ Sansa snapped out of the haze she been trapped in, and she rose at once, mumbling a hasty thanks before running up the stairs to her bedroom. She locked the door and flung herself face-first into her bed, snaking a hand between her legs and fucking herself into oblivion. Afterwards, she let a cold shower wash away the feeling of Jon’s hands on her back.

 

In the end, the sunburns were not as bad as she'd thought they would be. After the cold shower and another spreading of Aloe, they barely troubled her.

Much later, when the sun had set and Sansa was reading a novel in bed, someone knocked on her door. She bid whoever it was to come in, praying it wasn’t Jon. When her mother walked inside, she exhaled.

“Sansa, why aren’t you dressed? We have dinner at your aunt Lysa tonight.”

 _Shit_. She had forgotten about that. The idea of sitting next to Jon over a lengthy dinner after what happened at the pool that morning sounded challenging enough, but paired with the prospect of creepy uncle Petyr looking on as she tried not to let Jon get to her was even more alarming. Sansa raked her brain for a quick excuse.

“Um…I’m not feeling too well, actually. I think I should stay home and rest.”

Her mother came closer with a worried look. “What are you feeling?”

“Don’t worry, mum, it’s nothing serious. I’m just a little under the weather.” She burrowed further into her covers.

“Oh…Well, call me if it gets worse, alright?” Her mother came closer and gave her a kiss. “I’ll bring you leftovers.”

“I promise. And thank you.” Sansa gave her mother a smile before she left.

The door opened and closed downstairs, followed by the sound of the Stark’s minivan leaving the driveway, signaling to Sansa that she was finally alone.

She walked downstairs barefoot, humming as she went. The kitchen tiles were cool underneath her feet when she opened the fridge to look for a snack.

“Hey.”

Sansa jumped. “WHAT THE—”

It was Jon. _Of course._ She took a deep breath.

“What are you doing here?” She asked when her heartbeat went back to normal.

“Oh, your mother said you weren’t feeling well, so I volunteered to stay home and watch over you,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.

“How _thoughtful_.”

“Hey, I resent that! I _would_ take care of you, you know…if you were actually sick and not just lying about it to get out of dinner with your aunt. Oh, don’t look so shocked. I’m not stupid.”

“You… _ugh_ , nevermind.” She opened the fridge again and grabbed a cup of yogurt.

“If it makes you feel any better—”

“—It doesn’t.”

“—I would have stayed anyways.” He shrugged. “Your aunt hates my guts and her husband pisses me off.”

“Why does he piss you off?” She asks, taking a spoon and dipping it into her yogurt. His eyes follow the spoon as it dips inside her mouth. When she takes it out and licks it, his tongue does the same to his lips.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you. Creepy motherfucker.” He grumbles.

The way his eyes darken and his voice dips does strange things to her belly. She presses her thighs together. Jon stalks closer, never taking his eyes off her.

“How’s your back? Feeling better?”

“Yes, a lot better, thank you.” She swallowed.

Jon fixed his eyes on her mouth. “You have a little yogurt on your face.”

“Where?” She asks, hypnotized.

“Right here.” He grabs her chin and licks the seam of her top lip before swiping his tongue into her mouth in a kiss that sends tingles all over her body. Sansa feels her knees going weak, but Jon holds her by the waist and presses her against the kitchen counter. He groans and nibbles on her bottom lip, sucking when it becomes too much. _We shouldn’t be doing this again_ , she thinks, before he grabs her legs and wraps them around his hips, obliterating any rational thought her mind had ever had. He grinds against her once, twice, three times, before pressing her closer against his chest and settling his hands on her ass, walking out of the kitchen with her secure in his arms.

The living room is closer than both of their bedrooms, so he dumps her on the loveseat before climbing over her to resume their kissing. She sighs in approval, threading her fingers through his hair to keep him close. His hands find the hem of her tank top, slipping underneath to bring goosebumps to her skin. Jon slides it up and over her head to expose her breasts to him, groaning at the sight. “Your tits are fucking perfect, Sansa.”

He palms them, slides his fingers under and around them, squeezes and pinches her nipples lightly—each new touch releasing a moan from her lips. Finally, he brings his lips to her chest, lavishing her tits with attention until they’re flushed and glistening with his saliva.

“I wanna fuck your tits someday.”

 _Holy Fuck._ “Why not now?” She asks, panting.

“I have other priorities at the moment.” At that, he drags her pajama shorts down her legs along with her panties and shoulders her legs apart. Sansa knows what’s coming, but the wet touch his tongue on her slit still makes her gasp. He slides it in her without much preamble, pulsing his tongue inside her and gathering her juices before he pulls out and licks at her clit instead. She feels him trace figures and nonsensical patterns on her cunt, causing her to whine and grab his hair to push him to where she needs him most. He obliges and focuses on her clit again, circling it with his tongue while he brings two fingers to her entrance and pushes in.

“ _Ahh_ , please, baby, more, faster, make me cum, please,” she keens.

He groans in response, speeding up his fingers and sucking harder at her clit.

“Yes, yes, just like that, Jon! _Fuck!_ ” Her orgasm takes her, hips shooting up from the loveseat, forcing Jon to push them down while he finishes eating her out and setting off lovely aftershocks coursing through her.

“ _Mmm_ …I love how hard you cum for me,” he says against her hipbone, kissing his way up her body until he finds her mouth again. Sansa can taste herself on his tongue. “Are you ready for me, baby?” He asks, fingers lightly tracing her swollen cunt.

She moans, “Yes, I’m ready. Fuck me, Jon.”

He sucks on her neck loudly. “You want my cock? Tell me.”

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck. Greedy bastard!_ “All right, I want your cock inside me! Hurry up.” She whines impatiently.

He takes off his t-shirt, pajama bottoms, and underwear in a blink, stroking his cock once before bringing it to her pussy. His eyes slam shut. “Fuck. You’re so wet for me, baby…” He pushes in at last, wrenching a satisfied moan from her. “ _Mmpf_. This is all I could think about since that day, Sansa…My cock in your tight little pussy.”

 _Seven Hells._ She didn’t tell him she felt much the same, just moaned and urged him on with a snap of her hips. He started pumping into her, his cock sliding in and out in that delicious rhythm that stoked the fire in her gut. Sansa grasped his shoulders, enjoying the way his chest felt pressed against hers.

Suddenly, Jon stepped back, making her whine pathetically before he hooked his arms under her knees and pulled her closer to the edge of the loveseat. He stayed on his feet as he pushed back in, keeping her legs bent and open wide as he fucked her. The new angle made her cry out, feeling his cock stretch her open and reach that same spot he managed to hit the last time.

“Fuuuck! Yes, Jon, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

“ _Ughh_ , you’re squeezing me so tight, Sansa, fuck…”

“ _AHHH!_ Yes, right there! Yes, yes, yesss!” She came around his cock, hard enough to make her vision dance with black spots. Jon only fucked her harder, hunching forward to grab her tits as they bounced with the force of his thrusts.

“ _Ughnn_ …I’m gonna—Sansa, let me cum on your tits, baby, please…”

Sansa nodded. She would have allowed him to even if he didn’t beg so sweetly. He pulled out at the last minute, climbing over her to aim for her chest. His cum covered her breasts in long, hot spurts while he moaned in ecstasy. When he was done, he looked at her appreciatively, spreading his seed around one of her nipples with his thumb. That must have been the most erotic thing she’s ever seen.

“You look so beautiful like that, Sansa…Covered in my cum.”

She gasped, feeling her cunt clench on air at his words.

 

Two hours later, they lie side by side in his sheets, naked and breathless. Sansa feels a pleasant ache in her bones from their last few rounds. She stretches with a satiated moan. Jon turns on his side to watch her with a cocky smile on his lips.

“Not too shabby, eh?” He moves closer, resting a hand on her hip.

Sansa laughs. “Not shabby at _all_.” She sighs when his thumb starts caressing her hipbone in tiny circles.

Jon nuzzles her ear, giving her lobe a nip before whispering, “I think you should be my girlfriend now.”

Sansa freezes. “ _What?_ ”

“You heard me.” He lays a kiss behind her ear, followed by another, closer to her neck.

She looks at the alarm clock on his nightstand and snaps out of it, untangling from his arms and sitting up.

“Jon... You can’t be serious.”

“I want you to be my girlfriend. What’s wrong with that?” He sits up too, frowning. His full lips do that pouty thing and Sansa has to look away.

Sansa shakes her head. “We don’t have time for this. They could be getting home anytime now.” She rises from the bed to leave, but Jon holds her back.

“Sansa, talk to me.” He pleads.

 _How can I say this without sounding like an absolute asshole?_ She takes a deep breath.

“Jon, I told you we would have sex so you could get your stupid crush on me out of your system and move on. And so you could become more confident. Which you have! But this can’t happen again. You’re my foster brother!”

“Oh, come on, Sansa, I’ve lived here for a _year_. Your parents didn’t adopt me. You’re not my sister.”

“Well, the rest of the world doesn’t make that distinction, Jon. My parents are fostering you. We can’t just go out and be a couple. My parents would _never_ accept that, and neither would child services, for that matter. It’s not realistic.”

“All right, all right—so we can’t kiss or hold hands in public. Big deal. We can still be together in secret. No one has to know.” He holds her face close to his, caressing her jaw. “Say _yes_ , Sansa. Be mine. My girl, no one else’s.” He noses the side of her face.

Sansa hesitates. The idea of sneaking around with Jon while no one was the wiser made her stomach do somersaults, but— _this is a bad idea_ , her brain tells her. She must listen to reason, and make Jon listen too.

“We can’t, Jon. It’s too risky. If someone found out…”

“We’ll be careful. I turn eighteen in a few months and then child services can’t do a thing about me.”

He leans in. His lips have only just touched hers when the sound of the car pulling into the garage startles her and sends her running off to her room with a curse under her breath. _Saved by the bell._

Sansa gets dressed quickly and all but sprints downstairs to pick up their discarded clothes from the living room before her family can find it. _What was I thinking?_ She asked herself again. Seemed like she did very little of that when Jon was around.


	3. Chapter 3

After spending the rest of her weekend at Jeyne’s, Sansa felt somewhat better. She could start the week with a clear head and a goal in mind: _do not have sex with Jon again_. It was simple enough—in theory—but Sansa did not want to risk surrendering to his charms again. If giving him sex didn’t help him move on, then she would just ignore him until he forgot about his stupid ideas of being in a secret relationship with her. That was the new plan.

Upon waking up that Monday morning, she reminded herself not to look at him. She barely acknowledged him beyond a _Good Morning_ to everyone at the table, paying no mind to the dark grey eyes that seemed to burn through her skin as she ate her breakfast.

Sansa felt relief when she arrived at school. Certainly, it would be easier to ignore him among the hundreds of people there; besides, they only shared two classes together, History and Chemistry. There was no History that day, so she only had to contend with him for an hour after lunch during Chemistry, in which they would not need to interact at all since they had different partners. And after class, she would have cheering practice, keeping her away from home for some time. It was perfect. No time for her to get thirsty over Jon Snow’s surprisingly talented dick. 

The day passed painfully slow, with a boring lecture on ethical philosophy by professor Stannis seeming to take hours. When she finally met her friends for lunch, Sansa was tempted to lay her head on the table and just sleep for the duration of that period.

“What’s the matter, darling? Not enjoying Stannis the mannis’ class?” Margaery joked.

Sansa snorted. “Is that what it looks like?”

“I told you not to take Philosophy, didn’t I? We could be taking shop together, getting one of those desperate boys do our projects and bagging an easy A.” She shrugged.

“You make a solid point, Marg. Maybe if I could just…rest my eyelids for a sec—”

“What is _that_?” Beth interrupted, pointing at her neck.

Jeyne looked at Sansa’s neck for a moment, unsurprised. “A hickey. She had it since Saturday, too. It actually faded a bit, it looked bigger this weekend.”

“ _Ohhh_ , naughty, Sansa! Tell us, who gave you that monstrosity on your neck?” Margaery asked excitedly.

Sansa hid her face behind her hands. _Great. This is great._

Beth urged her on too, in a sing-song voice, “Come on sansypants, tell us who’s been hitting that lately.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Yeah, don’t waste your time. I already grilled her to exhaustion this weekend and got nothing for my troubles _or_ my hospitality. She’s heartless, this one.” Jeyne tutted.

“Aw, you’re no fun.” Margaery pouted.

“Ladies.” A male voice came from behind Sansa. A tall boy with blond hair and a varsity jacket leaned on the table next to her. Sansa was good with linking names to faces, so she recognized him instantly as Harry Hardyng, from the football team. Her friends greeted him politely. “So…my folks are going outta town this Wednesday, and I decided to throw a party at my place. Can I count on you girls to be there?” He smiled charmingly.

“A party on a school night? Classy.” Sansa quipped.

Harry looked at her appraisingly before smirking. “Well, there’s only gonna be a few people, you know…more like a get-together, really. Grown up. Intimate.” He winked.

Sansa opened her mouth to reply, but Margaery spoke first. “We’ll be there. Get your cheese and wine ready, Hardyng.”

“Cool. I’ll text you the address. See you Wednesday, Stark.” He nodded at her before leaving.

“Okay. That guy wants to bone Sansa so hard. Wow.” Jeyne laughed.

“He said he’ll text you? When did he get your number? _Oh my Seven_! Is he the guy who gave you that hickey?” Beth asked.

“No, he isn’t. And he doesn’t have my number either; he’ll probably ask Robb for it, they’re on the football team together.”

“Well, nothing wrong with him getting your digits. He’s hot.” Margaery pointed out wisely.

“Excuse me? You’re dating my brother!” Sansa protested.

“And I love him dearly, but I do have functioning eyes, don’t I?”

“You guys really want to go to a party on a _Wednesday_? Don’t buy that ‘intimate’ crap, it’s gonna be overflowing with loud music and drunk people until someone calls the cops.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Sansa. Tell your parents you’re coming to my house for a project and sleepover; we’ll all go the party together, and if anything appears to be going south we get out and call an Uber before it gets bad, okay?”

Her friends all looked at her expectantly, so Sansa grudgingly agreed before the bell rang. When she got up to leave for her next class, she found Jon watching her from across the cafeteria with a fire in his eyes.

 

Her chemistry partner was a shy, freckled boy called Podrick. He could barely say two words to her without stuttering, and his clumsiness meant Sansa did most of the work, but she was glad for it today; she needed something to focus on to take her mind off of Jon staring at her from the work station behind hers.

“Pod, are you writing this down?” Sansa asked when she chanced to look up from the table and found him staring.

“Y-yes!” He nodded and picked up his pen.

 _Well, at least now I know better than to have sex with him to help with his confidence. Don’t need another surprise sex prodigy in my hands._ For a second, that reminded her of having Jon _literally_ in her hands and— _no, Sansa, don’t go there_. She mentally chastised herself, but couldn’t resist the impulse to look back for Jon. Thankfully, he wasn’t looking at her, but writing something on a notebook while his partner, Val, handled the test tubes. His protection goggles were resting atop his inky curls, and as always, his sleeves were pushed back, even on the white lab coat, which their teacher certainly wouldn’t approve of if she saw it. Sansa remembered how his strong forearms had held her so easily that night in the kitchen.

“…Sansa?”

Podrick’s timid voice brought her back to the present.

“Sorry, what was it?”

“I think the…the solution is ready.” He pointed out to the tube right in front of her.

“Oh! It is. Good job, Pod.”

_Focus, Sansa._

 

When cheering practice finally came around, Sansa was ready to let off some steam. She warmed up and stretched with her teammates before they started to practice their newest routine. In the worst possible moment—when Sansa was doing a split—Margaery turned to her, asking, “Why is your brother staring at you from the bleachers?”

“What—” it was Jon. Sansa turned to Margery, annoyed. “He’s not my brother.”

“That’s a bit cold, Sansa. Just because he’s adopted—”

“He’s _not_ adopted. My parents are fostering him, that’s all.”

Margery raised her hands in surrender. “Alright. No need to get so touchy about it.” She didn’t raise the subject again.

Sansa tried not to think of why it bothered her so much to hear Jon being called her brother. Even so, it wasn’t hard to figure out. This is exactly why she couldn’t be attracted to, much less having sex with Jon. Why couldn’t he see it? Why did he have to make it so hard for her?

When her practice ended, Sansa went straight for the bleachers. Jon sat there languidly, knees wide and both hands behind his neck.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in a harsh tone, wasting no time. “Margaery noticed you staring at me. You’re _always_ staring at me, how long until everybody else notices too?”

“Now, how would you know I’m always staring if you weren’t staring, too?” He asks, raising his eyebrows in challenge.

Sansa huffs. “Why are you here, Jon? I’m not going to fuck you in school. Or anywhere else, for that matter!” She adds hastily.

“Who says I’m here for you?”

She recoils a bit, looking at him disbelievingly.

He gets up, stretches his well-toned arms above his head. “The football team is holding late tryouts. I signed up for one today.”

“What? Why? You’re already on the hockey team.”

“Well, turns out my grades aren’t good enough to get me a full scholarship, so the school’s advisor recommended I get into more activities. Being on another sports team would double my chances.”

“Oh. You don’t need a scholarship that badly, I’m sure my parents would be happy to—”

“Your parents have five kids to put through college already. I don’t want them worrying about me.” His face changes when he says it, sporting that brooding look he was known for. Sansa wishes she could make it go away and get his cheeky smile back instead.

“I’m sure you’ll do great, Jon,” she says with a tentative smile.

“Wish me luck?”

“Good luck.” She gives him a quick hug, letting go before he can wrap his arms around her waist and keep her there.

“I meant with a kiss.”

She rolls her eyes before pressing her lips to his cheek. He finally smiles.

“Not what I had in mind, but I’ll take it, Sansa. See you later.”

He looks back at her as he jogs to the field.

Something makes her want to stay and watch him, and for once she doesn’t question it, just sits on the bleachers and waits for the tryouts to start. The boys already on the team join the ones trying out, Robb among them, and she watches them run, do pushups, kick and throw the ball around. It looks exhausting, but Jon is focused throughout and performs well. When it’s over, the coach hands him a jersey, Robb claps him on the back excitedly and she knows he got in. Jon smiles, looking so proud of himself it makes brings a smile to her face too. She climbs down to meet them and congratulate Jon before they all ride home, but Harry Hardyng notices her coming and intercepts her.

“Hey, Sansa.” He nods, eyeing her up.

“Harrold.” She greets minutely.

“A pretty lady like you can call me just Harry.”

“Okay, _just Harry_ , what’s up?” Her tone is cheeky, and a little insolent, but to her bewilderment, Harry seems to like it.

“I didn’t get your number. You know, to text you my address for the party.”

“Right. I figured you would just text Robb. You did invite him, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I, uh… just thought it’d be cool to have your number...for other occasions. Like, if you wanted to hang out. Don’t get me wrong, but your brother is a little protective. Asking him for your number sounds a bit…”

“Scary?” She offers.

“ _Pfft_ , nah, I ain’t scared of Robb.” He waves that off as if it was a ridiculous notion, “just avoiding an awkward situation in the locker room, you know.”

“I see. Do you have your phone with you?”

“No, it’s back in my locker with my things. Do you have a pen?”

“Yeah, I think so. Hold on.” She digs up one in her bag. “Give me your arm.” He does, but she points out it’s too sweaty for the ink to stick.

 “That’s easy enough to fix.” Harry takes his jersey off slowly, showing off his muscles. He wipes his arm with the shirt, and then offers it back to her with a smirk. She writes her number on his skin, deliberately not looking at anything but his forearm. This is the sort of thing Jon would do to her, she thought, but somehow it wasn’t as charming when Harry did it, only annoyingly arrogant.

“Bye, Harrold.” She moved past him to find Jon and Robb, both frowning at Harry’s naked back.

“What was he doing?” Her brother asks her. Jon stays quiet, but no less surly.

“Showing off,” she says dismissively. “Congrats on making the team, Jon.” He stops staring knives at Harry to look at her, and his expression changes entirely.

“Thank you, Sansa,” he says, and she can see the heartfelt sincerity in his eyes.

She tries not to blush, turning to Robb instead, “Can we go home now?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter felt kinda filler. I'm a bit disappointed with it, to be honest, but I'm trying to go somewhere with it. Next chapter: the party.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, the beginning of this chapter might displease you. I wasn't very fond of it myself HOWEVER... I think the rest of it makes up for it. ;)  
> Let me know what y'all think!

“Will you keep Robb distracted for me tonight? You know how hard it is to have fun with a protective big brother around.”

“I know. Don’t worry, darling. You know keeping Robb occupied is one of my many talents.”

“Gross, but thank you. And I’m sure your endless modesty is one of them too.”

“Obviously. But no more than my devilish good-looks.”

Sansa laughed along with Margaery as they continued to get ready for tonight’s party in her best friend’s bathroom. Sansa had already informed her parents she would be sleeping over at Margaery’s, as they had planned. Despite previously complaining about it, Sansa was glad for an opportunity to let off some steam mid-week. Perhaps she had underestimated the amount of stress her senior year would bring, not to mention how tiresome it was to suppress her desire to knock on Jon’s bedroom door every night and crawl into his bed for some sneaky but mind-blowing sex. She wasn’t about to give in to her stupid hormones, so this party was just what she needed—a distraction, and an opportunity to meet someone who _wasn’t_ her foster brother. Someone she could be seen making out with, someone she could date, and bring home to her parents because he didn’t _already_ live with them. Someone whose life she wouldn’t ruin if Child Services found out they were fucking. Someone who didn’t drive her mad on a daily basis. You know. _That_ kind of someone.

Sansa knew it was too much to hope for to expect so much from a party thrown by _Harry Hardyng_ of all people. And she was right. Soon after her and Margaery arrived, Sansa realized the only type of guy present at the party were Harry’s uninteresting and increasingly drunk friends from the football team. She could excuse Robb from the bunch; he was from the football team, but not nearly as stupid or as drunk as the others. And Jon. Jon was part of the football team, now, she remembered. Sansa looked all over the place for him, feeling a slight pang in her chest when she finally conceded he wasn’t there. _Of course he wouldn’t be_ , Sansa told herself. Jon avoided this sort of event like the plague. _That antisocial, misanthropic, morose hermit of a boy. He would live in a cave he could._ Huffing a bit in a surprising flash of anger, Sansa went in search of a drink.

 

Harry wasn’t much of a kisser. His lips weren’t full, his mouth tasted of cheap beer and his tongue kept invading her mouth instead of sliding against hers as it should. Sansa grabbed his hair, but there were no messy curls to grab on to, only short blond hair. His smooth face had none of the stubble she liked scratching her skin. Even reaching up to reach him was somewhat bothersome, and Sansa found herself wishing for someone shorter. Someone like…someone like…Jon. The thought of him made her heart beat faster. She even let out a moan at the memory of his lips, which had Harry wrongly assuming was for him.

_I can’t think of him now, I can’t, I can’t…_

Sansa brought Harry closer, letting the boy’s eager hands palm her breasts through her shirt. The pressure was all wrong, so she brought his hands down her skirt instead. She imagined Jon’s finger on her cunt, sliding against the thin fabric of her underwear before pushing it to side to dive inside her warmth. Harry’s fingers felt stubby and clumsy in comparison.

“You’re wet,” he groaned, and it was the wrong voice.

“ _Shhh._ ”

She silenced him by unbuttoning his jeans and freeing his cock. It was smaller than Jon’s; it felt way too thin between her fingers. When she stroked it, she felt no thrill go through her body, no heat coiling between her legs in anticipation.

In the end, she faked an orgasm and stroked him faster to get it over with quickly. When she washed Harry’s cum from her hands, her eyes in the bathroom mirror seemed to scream, _traitor, liar, whore._

Normally she slept well at Margaery’s, but that night, Sansa spent a good while tossing and turning before a short, fitful sleep took her.

 

The next morning, Margaery’s alarm wakes them up with an unpleasant rendition of Matthew Wilder’s _Break My Stride_ that rings painfully through Sansa’s head.

“Seven hells, Marge. Your alarm is murderous.”

“Hush. It gets me going in the morning. How’s your hangover?”

“Bad enough for me to worry about my head potentially exploding during Calculus.”

“That bad, huh?” Margaery said as she got up and started getting dressed. “So, did Hardyng get hard for you last night or what?”

“You can do better than that.”

“Oh, give me a break. It’s the _morning_ ,” Margaery defended.

“All right. Full disclosure, I did not, nor do I ever plan to fuck Harry Hardyng.” Sansa groaned as she got up as well.

“You did disappear with him at one point, though” her friend pointed out.

“Right, okay, I jerked him off and let him touch me a little.”

“Spicy,” she cooed as she pushed her brown curls up into a ponytail. “How was it?”

“Out of ten? I’d give him a solid…two-and-a-half,” Sansa said honestly.

“Ouch.”

“Yeah…Anyways. Calling dibs on your bathroom now.”

“You do _not!_ ” Margaery protested.

“Be a gracious host!” Sansa quipped before beating her friend to the bathroom.

 

Sansa was gathering the books she would need that day from her locker when she spotted him. Jon was walking towards her from the end of the hallway. His dark gaze took her breath away; she froze with her hand midway through reaching for her history book.

“Can I help you with that?” a voice asked behind her back, startling Sansa. She turned and found Harry smirking at her. “Hey. Cat got your tongue?”

“No, thank you, Harry. I’m fine.” Sansa brushed off, looking the other way to see if Jon was still approaching.

“You sure? They look heavy.”

“Well, I’m stronger than I look,” she pointed out, annoyed.

“Sure, babe.” He smiled.

 _I’m not your babe_ , Sansa wanted to bite out, but she settled for silence instead. He did not take the hint.

“So…I had fun last night. You wanna hang out sometime? Just the two of us,” Harry winked. “We could pick up where we left off…”

 _Shit_. Jon was close. _Did he hear that? Not that it would matter if he did. He’s not my boyfriend. I didn’t cheat on him,_ Sansa reasoned.

“ _Um_ —Sorry, I gotta go, I’m running late.” She closed her locker hurriedly and walked away before Jon could reach her.

Her Physics class was a welcome haven for Sansa. She hated the subject, but still, she wouldn’t have to face Jon until later that day, during History. That didn’t stop her from wondering and worrying—what would Jon do? Did he know? Had someone told him? Did Harry brag to the whole school already? Would Jon confront her? Would he _punish_ her? At that, Sansa imagined being sprawled over Jon’s lap as he repeatedly spanked her bare ass until the skin turned red, and _Gods_ , if that didn’t bring an inconvenient thrill between her legs…

 _Stop that right now_ , she urged herself. It was hard enough to understand physics without fantasizing about Jon. Doing both at once was simply impossible. She needed to keep a distance from Jon, in mind and body both. If he got too close, she might have sex with him again, and that was _not_ a sensible course of action, she knew. You see, Sansa was careful by nature; she was all about thinking before making decisions...That is, until Jon came along and changed everything. Being around him made her spontaneous—dangerously so. Sometimes she feared there was no stopping it.

 

Sansa never actually makes it to History. Strong hands push her into a supply closet as she walks unsuspectingly down a hallway, and before Sansa can think to scream, she realizes who it is. There’s enough light seeping through the door’s cracks to make out Jon’s face. His eyes are fixed on hers; he’s holding a hand over her mouth and pushing her against the shelves in the dark, cramped space.

“What happened at the party last night?” He asked gruffly, removing his hand from her mouth so she could answer.

“If you had been there, you’d know.” Sansa retorted. She had been nervous at the idea of Jon confronting her, but now that he was, she didn’t want to back down.

“I wasn’t invited.”

“Bullshit. You could have gone with Robb. It was a football team party and you’re on that team now.”

Jon scowled. “Sansa…”

“What?” she asked, defiantly.

“Did you fuck him?”

“Who?” She raised her brows, feigning ignorance.

Sansa expected his hands to tighten on her waist, for him to grow angrier until he exploded, but his gaze softened with disappointment and a touch of bitterness. She didn’t like the sadness there, much less to be the cause of it.

“Did you fuck Harry Hardyng?” he asked finally, with less bite than before.

“No.” She answered honestly, even if her mind insisted it was none of his business.

Jon sighed with barely contained relief, but he didn’t let up.

“Did you kiss him?”

“Yes.”

He flinched, and then some of the fire was back in his eyes. Why did his reaction give her such sweet exhilaration?

“Did he touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Where? Tell me,” he rasped, resting one hand on either side of the shelves behind her head. His nose touched hers, and Sansa could feel his hot breath against her lips when he spoke.

“He—I let him finger me.”

Jon’s jaw clenched. “Did he make you cum?”

“No.”

“Hmm, that’s a shame…” His tone indicated the very opposite. “Poor Harry couldn’t make you cum, could he? But you know who can.” He nosed a line against her neck, up to her ear, whispering, “Don’t you, Sansa?”

She did, but she said nothing, focusing on keeping her knees from giving out now that Jon was pressing little open-mouthed kisses below her ear.

“You look tired, Sansa. Do you need a release? I can do what Harry couldn’t. I can give that to you. Anything you need. All you have to do is ask.” His voice soothed and inflamed her at once.

Jon pushed her hair behind her ear gently with one hand, while the other gripped her hip. His touch could have burned right through her clothes and branded the skin underneath.

“I…” she started, inarticulately.

Sensing her difficulty, he kissed her—briefly, but enough to make her lips tingle when he was done. His hand moved to her thigh, rising slowly underneath her skirt until it reached the increasingly damp patch in her panties.

“Do you want this, sweetheart? Just say yes or no.”

Sansa is thankful for this, for _him_ ; thankful that he’s kind enough not to make her beg, even though she would have, in that moment. Without a shred of doubt left, she whispers, “Yes.”

A satisfied growl rumbles through his chest as his mouth connects with hers again, fingers sweeping her underwear aside to finally dip into her wetness. They both moan at the contact.

“That’s right,” he says, digits sliding up and down her wet lips, circling her clit, once, twice, and then teasing her entrance before moving up again, “that’s my girl.”

“Jon…” she whines when his middle finger threatens to push inside her, only to retreat again to tease her clit.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he says apologetically when he removes his fingers entirely and she protests. Jon brings his fingers to his mouth quickly, sucking them off before moving them back to where she needs them. “I just had to taste you. It’s been a long a time.”

It hadn’t, not truly, but she found herself agreeing with him; these few days without him felt like _ages_. Finally, miraculously, he pushes two fingers inside her cunt, curling them in the tight grip of her walls.

“Is this what you need, darling?”

“Yes…yes,” she breathes, nodding as if her words weren’t enough affirmation.

He moves them faster, thumb pressing lightly on her clit. “Harry couldn’t do this to you, could he?”

She shakes her head. “Gods, no. He didn’t know what to do. Not like you.”

Jon purred at her words, kissing her neck again as he doubled his efforts with his hand. She’d become so wet his fingers made a slopping sound whenever he drove them inside her cunt.

“Harry can’t have this cunt. Tell me who can have it,” he grumbles, flicking her clit tirelessly and bringing her to edge of a precipice. His tone was rough, but he touched her as if she was something incredibly precious.

“You, Jon,” she moans, hips canting off their own accord, chasing that feeling, and then—she’s falling, falling, but her body inexplicably stays in the same place, where he’s got her firmly held in. Her orgasm washes over her in waves; Sansa feels it all the way to her toes.

When she comes back to herself, one of Jon’s hands is over her mouth again. She raises an eyebrow in questioning.

“Sorry, love,” Jon says with a fond smile, “you can be a little loud sometimes.”

He replaces his palm with his lips, and Sansa can taste a hint of herself in them from when he sucked his fingers earlier. They don’t stop kissing until he runs out of breath and brings his two fingers to the edge of her lips.

“Suck for me?” He asks sheepishly. She never could resist his puppy-dog eyes. When she does, his mouth twitches, and his eyelids droop for a moment in a heated look that stirs that deep need in her all over again. He’d gotten closer now, pressed entirely against her, and Sansa was acutely aware of his bulging erection against her stomach.

Jon nudges her legs further apart with his knee, giving her ass a squeeze before he slides her panties down her smooth legs and pockets them. “You look so hot in your little cheerleading uniform, baby. I’ve always wanted to fuck you like this.”

Gods, why did her stomach swoop every time he called her by a term of endearment?

“ _Mmm_ , I missed you so much…” He held her face in his hands and mumbled between kisses, “Did you miss me too, sweetheart?”

“ _Uh-huh_ ,” she nodded, not wasting any precious time that could be spent kissing him and bringing her own fingers to play with the curls on the back of his neck.

He rucked up her skirt and picked her up, and she readily wrapped her legs around his hips, all while keeping his mouth locked on hers. But Jon—rather cruelly, she might add—breaks their kiss so he can bite her chin lightly and ask, “Have you missed my cock too, Sansa?”

 _Seven fucking hells_. “Yes...I did. I do,” she confesses, rather desperately.

“You can have it. It’s all yours if you want it, and the rest of me too, just say the word. I know I missed your cunt, Sansa, more than I can say. It’s all I think about… _You’re_ all I think about.”

She all but melts in his arms.

“Tell me, baby. Please,” he begs, and Sansa is absolutely and irrevocably gone.

“I missed you too. I missed your cock so much, Jon. I want you. _Now_.”

“I’m all yours.” He rests his forehead against hers and groans as he holds his cock to her entrance, pushing in slowly, slowly, stretching her out...Her cunt sucks him in greedily, clutching him even when he’s already buried to the hilt. She gasps at the fullness, already trembling as she wonders how anything could possibly make her feel this way—such a fulfilling ache.

“I’m gonna make you cum again, Sansa,” he promises, starting to move, his hands holding her ass tightly. His cock pushes in and out of her, and when she looks down on it, she finds herself mesmerized by how it glistens, coated in her own wetness. He starts fucking her in earnest, with deep, fast strokes, until all she can see from his cock is a blur.

“Right there! Don’t stop, Jon…” She moans.

“You have to be quiet, love, or we’ll get caught…” He grunts against her mouth before catching her lips with a kiss.

Gods, why did that possibility send a thrill down her spine and between her legs? Was she insane?

“Can you be good for me, hmm?” He coaxes, “Be a good girl for me, Sansa.”

“ _Fuck_.”

“Good girls don’t swear.” He teases as his thrusts increase in pace. “But then, _umpf_ , they don’t skip class to fuck in supply closets either, do they?” His laughter might be the sexiest sound she’d ever heard, but she’s not sure.

“You… _ah_ —you brought me here…” she defended.

“And you said you missed my cock,” He pointed out with a particularly potent thrust. “No more than I missed this tight pussy…oh _yes_ , sweetheart, do that thing again!”

She clenched her inner muscles on his cock, drawing a deep groan from his throat. It was her time to tease. Sansa raked her nails down his neck and playfully admonished by his ear, “Quiet, darling, we don’t want to be found now, do we?”

Jon laughed again, the delightful sound making her blush, before he retaliated by sucking harshly on her neck. As their passion build, along with their pleasure, he grew more serious.

“You won’t need Harry anymore, will you?” His voice was tinged with fury and desperation.

“Never…I never did, Jon.” She assured him. “Just you.” Her arms wrapped around him, urging him to know, to understand…

“Sansa…My Sansa…” His words were a song to her ears, sweet and melodious, as he brought a hand between her legs and pressed on her clit. Sansa could feel the heat inside her coiling tighter, tighter, so close to snapping she could scream. When it did, Jon’s mouth was there to swallow her cries, and she was thankful, for she couldn’t have stopped it if her life depended on it.

Jon’s hips slowed down its movements, though Sansa could see how much he strained to contain himself by the way his eyes snapped shut and his jaw clenched plainfully. She pushed gently at his chest, soothing his worried look with a kiss to his jaw before she went down on her knees before him. Looking up at him, she placed both his hands on the back of her head and opened her mouth, silently indicating what she wanted him to do.

“Gods, Sansa,” he groaned, fingers burying in her hair as he started to fuck her mouth. “This is straight out of my top five fantasies of all times.”

She would have smirked if she could, but she was busy relaxing her throat so she wouldn’t gag when his cock hit the back of it.

“ _Ohhh fuck_ , that feels so good, baby…” He chanted, and Sansa knew he was close. Jon always got chatty when he was about to cum. When his groans got louder and he warned her it was time, giving her the choice to pull out, she only grabbed his buttcheeks and took him deeper, until her nose met the base of his pelvis. She swallowed around him, feeling his seed shoot quickly down her throat—she could barely taste it, except for the heat. Sansa released him with a _pop,_ making sure they were both clean of any leftover drops of cum. Meanwhile, the only word Jon seemed to remember was her name.

 

Later, Sansa gets the History work they missed from Jeyne, making up a visit to the nurse as an excuse to why she wasn’t in class. When she asks about Jon, Sansa feigns surprise at him not showing up either. She blushes when she realizes Jon still had her panties.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Last chapter: sex. This chapter: feelings.
> 
> Also, to clarify on everyone's ages: Robb, Sansa and Jon are all seniors in high school here. Robb and Sansa are 'irish twins', he's less than a year older but has already turned 18. Sansa and Jon are some months away, still 17. Arya is 15 and a sophomore in high school. Bran is 13 and in his last year of middle school. Rickon is 6 because I wanted him to be. ~~Sue me.~~

“I don’t know how you, or anyone, can find any of this interesting,” Jon complained. “This is boring.”

They were sat next to each other with their History textbooks open on the dining table. Sansa had asked him if he wanted to go over what they missed in class earlier that day. For someone who hated History, he sure was quick to agree, but she kindly chose not to point that out. Right now, they were going over the last century’s treaties between the Seven Kingdoms and the Free Cities.

“Well, maybe not this specific part of history but the farther you go, the more intriguing it gets. The war for the dawn, the conquest, the age of heroes, the long night…It’s all quite fascinating.”

“How?” He asks, skeptically. “They’re all things that happened—supposedly!—thousands of years ago to people who are now dead. I doubt even half of those were true.”

“Well, maybe the tales were a little…embellished with time,” she concedes, “but they’re still great stories! They shaped our notions of religion, politics, art, literature, romance, music, philosophy, for generations. They made Westeros what it is today. I think they’re beautiful, if a bit gruesome at times. Like, take the war for the dawn, for instance. Yes, the undead creatures sound a bit outlandish, but that was the first time the people had a say in choosing their own king. It sowed the seeds of democracy, so to speak, first in the North, then throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Or the love story of the Bastard King and his Queen in the North—pseudo-incest aside, it inspired so many romantic archtypes and…I’m ranting now, aren’t I?” She stopped, noticing how Jon was staring at her open-mouthed.

“No! No,” he rushed to intervene, "I just like how passionate you look when you talk like that.”

Jon’s lopsided smile pulls irresistibly at her own cheeks, until she’s smiling shyly back at him. His hand catches hers under the table, his thumb caressing the back of her hand in tiny circles.

“Is that what you want to be? A historian?” He asks, interested.

“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose something within the human sciences. Political science, history, literature. Those are my best subjects. Although I also think about something more artistic sometimes, like visual arts, or fashion design, but it seems a bit scary, you know? Risky. I don’t know if I’m brave enough to pursue that.”

“I think you’d be brilliant at any of those.” He declared.

Sansa felt herself blush. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do. And I’m not saying that just because…” he looked around, coughing into his fist, “anyways, you’re top of the class in those subjects, plus, I took Art with you last year and I remember all the beautiful works you came up with while I was drawing stick figures all over the place.”

“I remember that,” she giggled. “Mrs. Mordane didn’t know what to do with you. You looked so utterly lost. Why did you sign up for it?”

It was Jon’s turn to blush. He cleaned his throat before admitting. “Because of you. Robb told me you were taking it. I had just moved and I uh…I wanted to know you better, get closer to you…”

Sansa wanted to point out how incredibly sweet that was, but sensing his embarrassment, she changed the subject. “What about you, what do you want to do for a living?”

He shrugged. “I never thought I’d make it to university, to be honest. Still seems a bit unrealistic to me. It’s hard to imagine myself having a career and not just taking any crap job I can find after school.”

“Don’t say that!” She chided. “You can do anything you set your mind to. You passed that Art class in the end, despite having no artistic skills. Your grades aren’t bad at all. You got into the hockey team and the football team easily. I _know_ you can get a scholarship to any of the big universities out there. You just have to fight for it, like you do with everything you want.”

No one ever looked at her like Jon did. Just now, it was as if she had hanged the moon in the sky for him. Sansa felt a warm feeling spread through her chest as she met his eyes; the dark depths were shining like stars.

“I really want to kiss you now,” he confessed.

Sansa’s eyes sweeped their surroundings, making sure no one was near the dining room. "Later,” She promised. “If you behave _.”_

“And if I don’t?” He challenged.

Her hand moved to the crotch of his pants, squeezing him. “You don’t want to find out.”

Jon swallowed, closing his eyes. “I—”

The sound of footsteps interrupted him, making Sansa hurriedly remove her hand from where it was beneath the table.

“Hey there, kids. Studying?” her father asked, approaching the large wooden table.

“Working on our History homework.” Sansa said seamlessly. It was only half a lie; that _was_ what they were doing earlier.

“I don’t want to get in the way of your studies, but your mother and I have to go out for a few hours, and your siblings are all out too. Could you watch Rickon until we get back?”

“Of course, dad. We’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”

 “Thank you. We’ll be back as soon as we can.” He smiled before waving them goodbye.

Once her father was gone, Sansa whispered to Jon before rising from her chair, “Looks like you’re not getting that kiss so soon.”

“Hey! That’s not fair!” He whines, following her.

 

Little Rickon was definitely the wildest Stark. Once that title would have fallen to Arya, but now there was no doubt left that Rickon could be even more willful as he ran across their backyard to escape his bath time, covered in mud. A true god of chaos trapped in a tiny six-year-old body.

“This isn’t working, Jon,” Sansa panted, wiping the sweat off her forehead. “The little devil can run circles around us.”

“All right.” He nodded, resting his hands on his knees to recover his breath. “He’s your brother, what do you suggest?”

She pauses, thinking, and then, “I have an idea.”

 

“We can’t reason with him, Sansa, he’s _six_.”

“We’re not reasoning with him, Jon, we’re negotiating.”

“That doesn’t sound much different, but if you think it will work…”

“I know it will. I’ve known him since he was born. He won’t be able to resist it, trust me.”

“Okay. Go on, then.”

Sansa cleaned her throat before exclaiming loudly, “ _Mmm_ , Jon! This is the _best_ chocolate I’ve ever had!” She elbows Jon in the ribs when all he does is stare at her.

“ _Ow!_ ” He grumbles before taking his cue, “It sure is, Sansa. It’s made in the Free Cities with cocoa imported from the Summer Isles.”

“Delicious! I could eat this WHOLE CHOCOLATE BAR MYSELF!”

“Sansa, you’re practically shouting,” Jon whispers next to her.

“Shut up, he needs to hear me,” she whispers back. “YUM! CHOCOLATE!” Sansa says louder.

Slowly, a mop of messy auburn curls appears from behind a bush nearby, until Rickon’s blue eyes are watching them furtively. Sansa pretended not to see.

“Wow, we have so much chocolate here! We’ll never manage to eat all this on our own. Right, Jon?” She looks at him for assurance.

“Yeah, I don’t think we can, Sansa. What should we do with it?”

“I thought we could share some with Rickon, but my little brother keeps running away from us… You know, mum wouldn’t let him eat this much chocolate. She never lets him have a whole bar to himself. _I_ would but…Well. Pity. I guess we’ll have to try and eat it all ourselves.”

“ _Psst_. Sansa.” Rickon called.

Sansa turned to him with feigned surprise. “Oh, hey, Rickon! Didn’t see you there.”

“Can I have some of that chocolate, please?” He asked, eyes big and innocent in his best pleading expression. _Damn, he’s good_.

“I don’t know, Rickon… You’re kinda stinky. Maybe if you showered…”

“You’ll give me a whole bar if I shower? You won’t tell mum?”

“I promise. But only when you’ve showered. Deal?”

He looked to his shoes, seeming to deliberate with all the seriousness a child of six could possess. “Okay. Deal.”

They shake hands on it.

 

“Not bad, huh? Told you it would work,” she gloats as they wait in front of the bathroom door.

“Well, I’m pretty sure your parents could do it without the bribery, but for us? Impressive.” Jon concedes.

“ _Bribery_ …” Sansa rolls her eyes, but a smile sneaks its way into the corner of her lips. “You’re so dramatic.”

The sound of water running stops, and in a few moments Rickon steps out in the clean clothes Sansa had set out for him, his hair dripping wet. “Can I have my chocolate now?” He asks.

“How about I dry your hair first so you don’t get a cold and mum doesn’t get mad at me?”

Her brother sighs dejectedly, but lets her rub his head with a towel. When she’s done removing most of the dampness, Sansa combs his hair back, removing any tangles.

“There you go. We can see your cute little face now!” She pinches his cheek for good measure, laughing when he scowls. “Look, Jon. He pouts just like you. Did you teach him that?”

It’s Jon’s turn to frown. “No, he doesn’t—I don’t! I _didn’t_!”

Sansa laughs harder.

 

They’re watching cartoons with Rickon as he tears savagely into his chocolate bar. Jon is sitting right next to her while her little brother sits on the floor, eyes glued to the TV screen.

“This was fun,” Jon says, stretching his arm to rest over her shoulders.

“Yeah.” She smiles. “It was like having a kid of our own.” Sansa stops and panics, realizing her words. “Not that I want us to have kids!” She rushes, “We’re in High School! that would be insane. I mean in the future—not that I’m assuming we’ll _have_ a future, of course, that’s—”

“Sansa, it’s okay. I get what you mean,” he says reassuringly.

Sansa exhales. _Did he?_ She hadn’t even known herself what she meant. “Really?”

“Yes. You love me so much you want me to be your future baby daddy,” he teases.

She slaps him on the chest. “ _You_ …I’m making you wear a condom from now on!” Sansa whispers aggressively. Jon whines at that. “And I’m getting on the pill too. Not taking any chances,” she states.

“If you’re getting on the pill we could do without the condoms. I could…Gods, Sansa, let me cum inside you.”

Sansa feels suddenly warm at the idea. “I’ll think about it,” she concedes, but she already knows she wants it. The thought of Jon spending inside her leaves her more worked up than it was appropriate when her little brother was still in the room. Needing a change of subject, she points out something silly about the unicorns in Rickon’s favorite cartoon. Jon frowns at the TV.

“You know, in our times, cartoons were simpler.”

“Right, because we’re _oh-so-old_.”

“Yeah. They were more violent. No unicorns, just knights killing each other. You know, the good stuff.”

Sansa laughed until Rickon turned around to shush them. She continued in a quieter tone, “I didn’t like those episodes. I liked the one with the princes and princesses and the love songs.”

She thought Jon would make fun of her, but he just smiled fondly before speaking, “I used to watch those with my mum. They were her favorites too.”

Sansa was caught off-guard. Jon had never spoken about his mum before. “What was her name?” she asked softly.

“Lyanna. People used to say I looked like her. She died when I was eight. Car accident.”

Wanting to change the broken look on his face, Sansa tried to steer his memories towards something warmer. “What was she like?”

“She was kind. Every day she took the time to watch the morning cartoons with me during breakfast before she drove me to school. She liked singing. She liked flowers, too. Had a small garden in our home she tended to every day. One time I was playing with a ball in the yard; I kicked it over the flowers by accident and ruined all of them. I cried, but she didn’t even yell at me. Just kissed me on the cheek and let me help her with planting new ones.” By the time he was done speaking, his sweet smile was back. Sansa felt it warmly in her chest.

“She sounds wonderful.”

“She was.”

“What about your father?”

Sansa wanted to kick herself when his expression soured again.

“Never knew him.” He shrugged. “Mum didn’t talk much about him. I think he was married or something. I don’t care; he never showed up to claim me so that’s how I ended up in the system.”

Searching for something appropriate to say, but coming up empty, Sansa grabbed his hand and squeezed. He squeezed back.

It was almost painful to extract her hand from his when the front door opened and her parents walked in.

 

“Sansa, can I speak with you for a minute?” her father had asked her after dinner.

She tried to quench her irrational fear that her father had somehow found out about her and Jon; that they had looked at each other a moment too long during dinner, or their hands had lingered after she passed him the salt, and that it would be their undoing. But her father’s next words surprised her.

“I’m glad you’re finally opening up to Jon and accepting him as a brother. You two never seemed to bond as the rest of us did, but now I see you’re finally welcoming him into the family. Thank you.” He smiled and hugged her before wishing her good night and turning around, unaware of the turmoil she felt.

_You’re finally welcoming him into the family._

_Accepting him as a brother._

_That’s what he thinks._

_Oh, father. You don’t know the half of it._

Later that night, in the quiet hours when everyone was deep inside their dreams, Jon sneaked into her room. He climbed over her body and kissed her, but all Sansa could hear was her father’s voice.

_Welcoming him into the family._

And as Jon kissed her neck,

_Accepting him as brother._

As he slid his hands up her camisole towards her breasts,

_Thank you._

_Thank you._

Sansa pushed him away with both hands. “Stop.”

He did. Jon looked at her in the dark, squinting to make out her face. “Sansa, what’s wrong?”

She sat up and shook her head. “I can’t…I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean?”

“ _Us_. This was a mistake from the start. I don’t know what we were thinking, but this has to stop.”

He paused, inhaled, exhaled. “Just today you told me you wanted me. Not Harry. Not anyone else. _Me._ What changed, Sansa? Why are you doing this?”

She felt a lump growing in her throat as she responded, “Someone has to use their brains here and it’s clearly not going to be you.”

“Right. I’m the stupid one, aren’t I?” He retorts, more hurt than angry. “So you lied? You don’t want me, is that it?”

“I…I said that during sex.”

“So it doesn’t count?” He presses.

“Jon—” She starts in a mild tone, but he interrupts her.

“No. Stop it!” He hisses. “You’re lying _right now_. I’m not stupid, you see. I know you want me. I’m not one of those guys who keeps pushing and pushing, until a girl finally gives in out of sheer exhaustion. You came to me first because _you wanted me_. You can keep telling yourself you were just ‘trying to help me out with my confidence’, or ‘ease the tension between us’, or any other _bullshit_ , but you know that’s not what it was. You knew I wanted you, and you wanted me right back.”

Sansa looked away, not able to meet his eyes. She held her tears back as she shook her head again, denying his words. But he _knew_ , didn’t he? He knew it was lie, no matter what she did. She’d be damned if she would admit it now.

“You’re so stubborn,” he scolded. “We were finally getting somewhere, and now you’re shutting me out again. Why won’t you let me in? Why do you let down your walls for me, only to raise them again, when you want this as much as I do?”

No. No. This wasn’t working. She _had_ to push him away; it was the right thing to do. She had to fix the utter mess that she herself had created, before it got any worse. After a long pause, she composed herself, looked Jon in the eye and spoke.

“You’re right. I did want you.”

“ _Thank you_.” He said earnestly, but to Sansa it felt like a stab in the chest.

_You’re finally welcoming him into the family._

_Thank you._

“What can I say? You’re an attractive guy, Jon. You’re obviously great in bed. I made the mistake of sleeping with you once, _because I wanted to,_ as you said, and you gave it to me _so good_ I made that same mistake, again and again. Are you happy?”

“That’s not—”

“Now, you’re part of my family, so as much as we’re both horny and great at getting each other off, we better cut that shit out and start behaving like siblings.”

“Today wasn’t like that,” he insisted. “You know it wasn’t. It was different.”

It was time for the final strike. “Maybe for you.” She finished.

The disappointment in his eyes was glaring, even in the dark. It tore and ate at her insides like a hungry beast.

“All right,” he said finally. “So it’s just family from now on, is that it?”

Sansa nodded. Jon left.

 

As she laid in bed that night, tears sliding into her pillow, a single thought occupied her mind.

_If I’m doing the right thing, why does it hurt so badly?_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...don't hate me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my longer chapter yet. Arya finally makes an appearance. Enjoy! xx

On the surface, his actions seemed normal, warm, familial, even. No one watching would doubt he was really her brother now. Only Sansa felt the cold lying underneath.

Jon treated her no different than he did Arya, and her father smiled fondly at them during breakfast, but Sansa had never felt stranger. It was exactly what she had asked of him…and it was completely disturbing. Since when did Jon make easy conversation with her at the table instead of staring and trying to touch her underneath it? Since when did he not try to sit next to her in the car on their way to school, so his hand could rest on her thigh when nobody was watching?

It seemed her original plan had finally worked, and Jon was finally—and suddenly—free of the massive crush he had on her. The notion brought a slight pang to her chest, but it would pass. This was what she wanted. Sansa was a big girl; she could deal with it.

 

Her day seemed to get worse and worse as it went. From a surprise quiz in Stannis’ class she did not prepare for, to being randomly paired up with Harry for a double assignment in Calculus, to the cafeteria running out of her favorite lemon tarts—Sansa was ready to rip her hair out by the handful. To make matters worse, she had chemistry later, which meant being near Jon.

Well, perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad. She was used to seeing him around the hallways between classes, but today she’d barely caught a glance of him. To think of it, seeing Jon might make her day a tiny bit better.

Jon arrives late to class, pushing back the sleeves of his white lab coat when the teacher isn’t looking. He doesn’t look her way when he walks over to the desk behind hers and greets his partner.

Sansa sneaks a few glances when she can, noticing how good he looked. His curls were tied back in a manbun today, and under his lab coat he wore one of his black henleys. His jeans were gray, and his pale skin complemented the almost monochromatic look. Usually he was quiet, so Sansa frowned when Jon started chatting with his partner. His very pretty, very _blonde_ , female partner.

At first, Val seemed just as surprised as she was, but soon enough she was teasing him for his sudden talkative streak as if they were old friends. Sansa honed in on their conversation while she worked with Pod, taking care to at least _seem_ focused on the task at hand and not on listening to every word from the work station behind her, as she was.

“Enough chitty-chat. Pass me that beaker, Snow.”

“You gonna boss me around all day?” He teased, but his tone was light.

“Something tells me you’d like that.” Val smirked.

“Wanna find out?” Jon smirked back, and Sansa felt sick. He was supposed to be terrible with girls, not so goddamn _smooth_.

_You certainly gave him the confidence he needed, didn’t you? Idiot._

Her mind was assaulted by images of Jon; entirely naked, his perfect ass on show…but he was fucking someone else—it was Val, right in their supply closet, and his muscles clenched as he pounded into her. Her red nails scratched his back possessively, leaving long, angry marks on his skin. Sansa felt such a sharp burst of rage she didn’t notice the sound of glass breaking.

“S-sansa! You’re bleeding!” Pod exclaimed.

She looked at him, confused, then down at her hands, finding shards of glass where a tube had been just moments before. Blood dripped from her right hand where the glass had pierced the thin latex glove and her skin beneath it; the red stained the white linoleum floor in small circles.

Sansa didn’t know what to do. The pain had finally caught up with her, provoking a hiss. Before she knew it, the teacher was commanding someone to take her to the nurse’s office, and a pair of hands guided her by the shoulders to the door. _Pod must be taking me,_ she thought.

It was not Podrick.

“Does it hurt? Sansa?” It was Jon. “Are you okay? Sansa, talk to me.”

“I’m okay, I just…” her mind felt a little hazy, “it stings.” She clenched her hand, wincing at the pain.

“Don’t worry; it’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. We’re almost there.”

His arm was wrapped around her as he guided her steps next to him, keeping her close enough to smell his cologne—musky and intoxicating—as if she wasn’t dizzy enough already.

The nurse startled when they came in without knocking, quickly putting out a cigarette with a bashful expression. Jon didn’t even give her time to apologize.

“She cut herself with a glass vial in chemistry, she’s bleeding and she needs help— _now_.” He insisted.

The nurse got up and signaled for her to lay on the stretcher. “Was there any substance inside it? Any chemicals?”

Jon looked at her worriedly. Sansa tried to remember.

“No… I don’t think so.”

“That’s better. Easier to treat a cut than a cut with a chemical burn.” She put on her disposable gloves, getting closer to examine the damage. "Let me clean that for you first, and then we can see whether you’ll need stitches.” She dabbed some gauze with antiseptic and got to work, but not before warning, “this might sting a little.”

In truth, it did not sting so much as it _burned_. Sansa’s other hand grasped her skirt tightly.

“Oh. You can hold your boyfriend’s hand with your left, darling, it’s all right.” The nurse said encouragingly.

Instead of protesting her assessment, she clung to Jon’s hand and squeezed, hoping he wouldn’t let go. He held her hand between both of his, drawing soothing circles on her wrist.

“Sorry, but it's a deep cut, you’ll be needing a couple of stitches, darling. Should be over in a jiff, though, just try not to look.”

 _What a great fucking day,_ Sansa cursed in her mind before fixing her eyes on the ceiling’s fluorescent lights. One of them seemed to blink in time with the nurse’s needle as it punctured her skin. She turned to the sterile white walls before deciding to look at Jon instead; his scowl was a much more interesting sight, and certainly more pleasing. Endearing, even. In its own way.

Finally, the nurse finished with the needle and thread, and wrapped her hand up with a bandage.

“There you go. You might want some painkillers for later. Let me check if I have some.” She went over to her desk to search her drawers.

“How are you feeling?” Jon asked her, still keeping hold of her other hand.

 _Like I need those damned pills._ “Better.” She forced a smile to go with it, but Jon remained serious as he looked her over.

Jon nodded, looked down to his shoes, and Sansa scrambled for something, anything, to say.

“Thank you. For being here and…” She trailed off.

“No problem. Just doing what any brother would do.” He stated, and then his hands were pulling back, leaving her own cold and numb. He excused himself and left, walking back to class on his own and leaving her on the stretcher.

“Here, sweetie.” She laid a tiny box on her good hand. “You can take one every two hours, they’re not very strong. Do you need one now?”

“No.”

In that moment, her hand did not seem to hurt so badly. The pain in her heart had surpassed it tenfold.

 

Writing with her left hand was proving to be a struggle. Sansa had tried to use her right, even taped a pencil to the bandages but it was all for naught. She was left trying to do her homework with her clumsy, but unharmed hand.

“Hey, there. Watcha doing?” Arya popped into her room.

“Mimicking the handwriting of a seven-year-old, apparently. Why?”

“No reason. Just caring about your general well-being, as any respectable sister would, really.” She shrugged.

“ _Right_. You want something. Out with it.”

For what it was worth, Arya didn’t waste any time trying to deny it. “Okay, so Gendry is throwing a party this Saturday, right? Trying to promo his new grunge band, and he’s already asked the whole school apparently, but here’s the thing: the idiot doesn’t know how to organize a party, much less a big one with a band to boot. Now, as a _good friend_ , I’ve offered to help him.”

Sansa scoffed. “ _You_ don’t know how organize a party. You can’t even organize your knife collection."

“Being spontaneous has its price, Sansa. Not that you’d know.”

Sansa _did_ know. But she wasn’t about to tell her sister about her sexual adventures with Jon Snow.

“If you want my help, Arya—which I’m absolutely certain you do—you should consider being nicer to me.”

Arya frowned. “Fuck you, I’m _nice_!” At Sansa’s pointedly raised eyebrows, her sister amended, “Okay, not _always_. However, I am willing to help you back!”

“How?” Sansa questions, suspicious.

“You can’t write with your left and it will take a while for your right hand to be available again. Just sit next to me, tell me what to write and I’ll do it for you. I’ll even add little hearts above the I’s, too.”

“I haven’t used hearts instead of dots since I was eight, Arya.”

“Okay, no hearts, then. Just two sisters helping each other out. It’s like, the rules of _feminism_ , Sansa. What do you say?” She pleaded.

Planning a party for hundreds of people, paired with a band presentation, and in less than a week was a challenge…But if it meant distracting herself from things she’d rather not dwell on at the moment, and getting help with her schoolwork in one fell swoop, the decision was an easy one.

“Okay, deal. For feminism, of course.”

“ _Ugh_ , you’re such a great sister. I regret ever telling mum you’re not a virgin anymore.”

“You did WHAT?!”

“I said I _regret_ it!”

 

After stocking up on colossal amounts of snacks, napkins, and plastic cups, and using Robb to legally purchase the alcohol, all that was left was some minor decorations and sound equipment checkups. Sansa went with her sister to Gendry’s band rehearsals at the big old house the party would take place in. Their music wasn’t bad, though Sansa would have preferred some upbeat Pop hits instead. The house was a bit of a mess, though, but she didn’t mind working along her sister and her friends to tidy up the place. Seeing Arya’s obvious crush on her oblivious friend Gendry ended up being incredibly entertaining, not to mention endearing.

They turned out to be a lot of fun. Gendry was stubborn as a bull, but Sansa liked his relentless teasing of Arya; Lommy was a bit snotty, but had a keen sense of humor; and the big boy they all called Hot Pie was the sweetest, even offering to help with preparing the snacks. By late Friday, they had managed to get everything done for the party.

 

The big surprise came on Saturday, when Sansa was getting ready for the party. Arya knocked on her door before entering, dressed in a nice pair of tight-fitting black pants and high-heeled leather boots. She wore a cropped version of the band’s shirt, the faded yellow logo standing out on the black cotton.

Sansa whistled. “Looking good, sis. Is that for Gendry?”

“ _Pfft._ No.” Arya scoffed.

“Okay…I’ll bite. What is it?”

Arya looked hesitant. “Well, you see…You always look so pretty at these things, Sansa. I was wondering if you could, _uh_ , do my makeup for me tonight? Nothing too girly like yours,” she rushed to explain, “And nothing _pink_ , for fuck’s sake.”

Sansa smiled. “Got it. I’ll make you the prettiest, kick-ass goth in this party, all right?”

“I’m not a _goth_ ,” she replied, rolling her eyes for good measure.

“Whatever you say, Arya. Now sit down and be quiet while I work my magic.”

 

The result was _stunning_.

“Okay, not saying this to brag, but I am definitely the best sister-slash-makeup-artist who’s ever lived. Take a look.” Sansa directed her to the mirror.

“Wow,” Arya whispered in wonder, not even blinking as she stared at her own reflection.

“You like it?” Sansa asked, enthused.

Arya nodded, still a bit dazed.

“Great! Then my job here is done. Time to finish my own look—can’t have anyone thinking the Stark sisters aren’t the hottest duo in town.”

Sansa sat back at her dressing table. She thought Arya had silently taken her leave, so when her sister spoke again, Sansa jumped in surprise.

“Sansa.”

“Seven hells, Arya. At least warn me first so I don’t smudge all my eyeliner.”

“Sorry,” she said.

Sansa looked back at her sister where she was sitting on her bed and dangling her feet from the edge.

“Go on,” she encouraged.

“What was your first time like?” Arya blurted, and Sansa almost ruined her makeup again. She stopped and took a deep breath.

“Not great.” In truth, Sansa tried to think of it as little as possible, as she did with all that pertained her first boyfriend. “But I got the hang of it later.”

“Oh. Okay. When you started to enjoy it, then? How—Can you, like…”

“You want tips? Words of wisdom?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Okay. I never, in a million years, imagined having this talk with you, but…whatever, we can do this. We’re adults. _Almost_.” Sansa continued speaking as she expertly applied mascara in the mirror, “First of all, wear a condom. No _buts_ , no _ifs_. Being safe is your first priority.” Sure, that was hypocritical of her, considering all her _coitus interruptus_ tactics with Jon, but she wasn’t about to be remiss in educating her little sister. “Second, trust your gut. If you feel like your partner isn’t the one, don’t do it.” _I wish someone had told me that, years ago._ She sighed. “Next, have fun. It’s supposed to feel good, for everyone involved, so if you’re not feeling it, tell Gendry—I mean, your partner. Whoever that is.”

“Okay.”

“Also, a little oral beforehand always helps.” She adds.

“It’s _so_ weird hearing that from you. But thank you, Sansa.”

“No problem. Enjoy yourself…Make good choices. Oh, and don’t get drunk. You don’t want to be drunk during it, trust me.”

“Duly noted. You better get ready now; we’re all leaving in about ten minutes.”

Sansa froze. Certainly, she didn’t mean… “ _All?_ ”

“Yeah. You, me, Robb, and Jon.” Arya said slowly, as if Sansa was a particularly stupid child, and not her older sister who just gave her the sex talk. “Now hurry up.”

At that, her sister left, closing the door behind her.

_Fuck._

 

Sansa climbed down the stairs in her short dress and high heels. She’d pinned her hair to one side, letting it stream over her shoulder. The bandage in her right hand made her feel slightly awkward, wondering if it ruined her look as it obviously stood out. Despite that, her makeup’s done to the nines, and she’d risk saying she looks good.

Jon doesn’t pay her more than a passing glance. He stares out the window the entire ride, and Sansa has to wonder why he’s even chosen to join them; he’s always hated parties.

When they arrive, Sansa is taken aback. Arya wasn’t kidding about Gendry inviting the whole school. The place was teeming with people. Inside and out, hundreds of teenagers walked around looking like ants in an anthill. She hoped her estimates of food and drink were enough for everyone.

“Time to Rock ‘n’ Roll! Come on, lads.” Arya prompted them.

The band was already playing when they walked through the wide open doors. Gendry was upfront with the microphone; he waved at them before starting a new song on his bass guitar. Hot Pie picked up the rhythm with the drums, and soon Lommy followed with a familiar riff on his yellow-and-black telecaster.

Doing shots with her sister was…a new experience. Arya had always been funny in her own way, but under the influence of alcohol, she was off the charts. They were both laughing like hysteric children at the jokes she made at the expense of Jon and Robb, who simply glared at them over their own plastic cups. Eventually, Arya started to wobble slightly on her feet.

“Arya. You’re starting to get tipsy. You better stop drinking now if you want to…do that _thing_ you told me about earlier, remember?” She said the last part close to her ear, thanking the gods for the loud music that made it impossible for Robb and Jon to hear it.

Her sister giggled. “Sansa…I may not like you very much, but I love you, you know?”

“ _Aw_ …That makes no sense.” Sansa shook her head. “Anyways. Love you too! Now, let’s go drink some water so you can sober up before Gendry is done playing.”

Sansa ushered her friend to the kitchen and made her drink two glasses of water before returning to the boys. Margaery had joined them at Robb’s side, but Jon was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey,” she greeted her friend with a hug and a kiss to the cheek. “Where’s Jon?”

“Over there with that blonde girl from the girl’s Hockey team.” Robb said over the loud music, nodding in their direction.

Sansa spotted Jon and Val next to a wall, talking closely as they sipped their drinks. _Of course they’re close_ , she reasoned, they wouldn’t be able to hear each other otherwise _._ _Still, they didn’t have to be_ that _close._

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Robb continued loudly, “They should have a lot in common. Jon never talks to girls, he must really like her.”

Sansa felt inexplicable anger course through her veins. “I’m getting another drink,” she bites out and walks away, not caring if they heard her of not.

As she is nursing a fresh cup of beer—still frowning at the nasty bitterness of it—someone touches her shoulder.

“Hey, Sansa. Nice seeing you here.”

It was Harry.

“Harrold,” she says, not rudely, but not filled with excitement either. “Enjoying the party?”

“Not as much as the last one.” He smirks, and gets closer to whisper in her ear, “You’re still calling me Harrold. That’s a bit formal for us, don’t you think? We’re past that point.”

“Are we?” She asks challengingly.

He grins. “Indulge me. Up for a dance?”

“I don’t think so.” She looks the other way, drinks her beer again.

“C’mon, Sansa. Don’t make me beg.”

She’s about to say no again, when her eye suddenly catches Jon across the room. His gaze is hard and unrelenting as he puts his hands on Val’s waist and leads her to the center of the room where everyone is dancing—or rather, jumping—to the band’s music.

“You know what? No need for that, Harry. Let’s go.”

Sansa takes him by the hand and drags him towards the pulsating crowd.

Harry’s not a bad dancer. He knows how to move; his hands keep her close by the waist and let her grind against him. If Jon were not doing the same to Val in her line of sight, Sansa might even let herself be distracted by the smooth motion of his hips. But instead, dark gray eyes meet hers, hot and cold at once, and Sansa is barely aware of Harry’s presence, despite his closeness.

Jon stares at her now, like he hadn’t done all night, making her feel as naked as her name day. When Val starts nuzzling his neck, Sansa impulsively does the same to Harry, keeping Jon’s gaze behind her dance partner’s shoulders. Sansa kisses his neck, making Harry hum in approval and grab hold of her ass, so he can grind harder against her front. Jon does the same to Val. His expression is impenetrable, right up until he turns his head and…

He kisses her.

It takes a moment or two for Jon to close his eyes—he keeps them open a fraction longer than necessary, shooting her own. Sansa gasps, feeling something inside her chest _break_ , and she needs to stop looking, she needs to leave, she needs to keep any traitorous tears from falling when she’s here, in front of everyone. She mutters some excuse to Harry about needing fresh air and bolts for one of the doors. There’s a porch in the back, she remembers, and she desperately needs to sit down and _breathe_.

Halfway there, Sansa notices Harry following her, but she doesn’t care enough to stop him. She sits on a wooden bench, letting the cold night air hit her cheeks and invigorate her.

“You okay?” Harry asks, taking a seat beside her.

She nods, “yeah, it was just a little crowded in there. Couldn’t breathe for a minute.”

“Did I take your breath away?” He jokes, and Sansa actually snorts.

“Don’t give yourself so much credit, Harry.”

His lips twitch. “That’s what I like about you, you know.”

“You like that I’m kind of mean to you? You boys are a weird breed.”

“Well, yeah. You keep me on my toes. Not every girl can take my ego down a notch like that.”

Sansa hopes this isn’t about to turn into a ‘ _you’re not like other girls’_ type of speech.

“Well, to be honest…I’m surprised you know what an ego is, Harry.” She intervenes.

He laughs, and throws an arm over her shoulders. “I’m full of surprises, my lady.”

“Please don’t speak like a knight from the old times ever again.”

“I thought you’d be into that classic ol’ romantic stuff.”

She did, or she _would_ , if it did not remind her of Jon since that day they studied together. Jon, whose tongue must be deep into Val’s tonsils by now. The image almost brought up bile to her throat. She got up and walked closer to the rails, leaning against the structure. Harry followed.

“You don’t strike me as the romantic type at all, Harry.” She diverts.

“Well, you’re not wrong there. I’m giving it a try though, give a guy some credit.”

 _What is it with boys and wanting to be rewarded for doing the bare minimum?_ She wondered.

“What do you want, then?” Sansa felt tired.

“A date would be nice. But a kiss will do, for now.”

“That’s…fairly modest. For you, I mean.” She supposes she could do it. Once again, Sansa finds herself wondering what it would be like to be with someone who could take her out, hold her hand in public, kiss her, lend her their jacket to wear in school. It was all so close, if only she reached for it. Harry got closer, pinning her against one of the tall wooden beams.

_This should feel right. There’s nothing wrong here; kissing him isn’t a risk. So why doesn’t it? Has the world gone upside down in the last few weeks?_

“Get your hands off her, Hardyng.”

Harry’s lips stop in their trajectory and he turns his head, looking at the intruder.

It’s Jon.

Harry still hasn’t moved.

“What’s up, Snow?”

“I said _get your hands off her_.” Jon repeats, in an even deeper tone than the first time.

“You’re playing the protective brother now, is that it?” Harry rolls his eyes. “Sansa’s a big girl, she doesn’t need you. You can go; we’re in the middle of something here.”

“If you don’t move off her _right now_ —”

“You’ll do what? You’re gonna fight me?” Harry taunts, finally stepping away from Sansa. “I’m not scared of a tiny chump like you.”

 _There is way too much testosterone in here_ , Sansa thinks.

“Okay, boys, let’s calm down, shall we?” She tries, but only Harry seems to listen.

“See? Listen to your sister, Snow, and back off. We have some private matters to get to that don’t require your presence, if you know what I mean _._ ”

_Oh, seven bloody hells._

Jon doesn’t take too well to Harry’s suggestion. He charges forward in a rage and throws his fist at Harry’s face. It connects with his eye loudly, but Harry is quick to retaliate with a blow to Jon’s jaw. Sansa screams at them to stop, to no avail; they keep exchanging punches until some partygoers hear her and come to her aid, separating the two boys with great difficulty.

Sansa drags Jon away from the scene and starts searching for Robb and Arya among the crowd. She finds her sister talking to her friends as the band was taking a break.

“Hey. We’re leaving. Where’s Robb?”

“Outside, I think. I’m going to stay a little longer.” Her sister blushes a bright pink, and Sansa catches her meaning.

“Okay. Call me if you need anything…and _be careful_.”

She turns to leave before Jon can say anything, dragging him outside by his shirt collar. They spot Robb’s car outside, but with the windows covered by fog and the light bouncing motion going on in the back, there is no doubt they won’t be leaving in it. Sansa curses before calling an Uber on her phone.

They sit quietly on the ride home, with a good deal of space between them in the backseat. Sansa crosses her arms to contain her irritation, finding Jon looking out the window with his sullen look again.

When they get home, she doesn’t let him go up to his bedroom, insisting on having a look at his injuries. They sit in the kitchen as she applies an icepack to his jaw.

“That’s going to bruise,” she says. Other than that, and a split lip, there doesn’t seem to be much wrong with him. “Do you feel dizzy? Lightheaded?”

Jon shakes his head, staying quiet, with a surly expression that chafes at her.

“That was stupid,” she chides, finding her tempers rising. “Why did you do it?”

“I was protecting you,” he grumbles.

“From Harry?” Sansa almost laughs. “You really think he’s _that_ dangerous?”

“He’s an ass!” Jon protests.

“Yes, but is he a _dangerous_ ass? So dangerous that you had to fight him to _defend my honor_ , or any other bollocks like that?”

“I didn’t say that.” He glowers. “You said you weren’t interested in him. Or was that a lie, too?”

 _None of what I said in that supply closet was a lie_ , Sansa wants to reply, but she bites her tongue. “Never mind what I said. Violence is not a smart way to deal with things—fuck, now I sound like my mother.”

Silence creeps in again before Jon breaks it.

“Are you going out with him?” He rasps.

“Are you going out with Val?” She retorts before reason can set in.

Jon looks at her fixedly. “Would it bother you if I did?”

Sansa swallows, irked by the game they were playing. “Why would that bother me? I believe I made it quite clear you and I are family now.”

“ _Crystal_.”

“Good.”

“I guess I will, then. Take her out, I mean.”

Her hand tightens on the icepack.

“Good for you,” she manages to say in an even tone.

“That’s what you wanted, right? To make me more confident. So I could finally 'get girls'.”

She nods. Jon keeps staring intently at her, waiting for her to break, certainly, but Sansa refuses to give him the satisfaction. Soon he gives up, sighing before changing the subject.

“How’s your hand?” He asks, taking her bandaged palm between his.

“Better. Should be fine in a week or two. That’s when the stitches dissolve. Actually, I need to go change the bandages. Can you hold this to your face?” She asks, passing him the ice.

He sets it aside. “I don’t need it. Let me help you.”

Sansa wants to deny him, but it was an incredibly hard task to do with only one hand, much less her left one, and she couldn’t ask her parent’s help at this late hour, they must be asleep already.

“All right,” she concedes.

He follows her to the bathroom where they keep the first aid kit. His fingers slowly unroll the worn gauze until her palm is fully exposed. She flexes it, feeling a strange tingling now that her skin was free and naked again, but stops when it becomes painful. Jon washes her hand with cold water and antibacterial soap, drying it gently with a clean towel before applying a pomade on the cut with light taps of his fingertips. At last, he carefully wraps new dressings around her hand, a pristine shade of white not so unlike her own skin.

Jon keeps holding her hand after he’s done, caressing it with his thumb, and his touch is more gentle than she can take. He smiles sweetly at her, and Sansa can only stare open-mouthed. _After all I’ve done, he still finds it in him to be kind to me. That’s who he is_ , she muses. _Brave. Gentle. Strong. Infuriating. Irresistible. And kind, so kind. That’s Jon._ Something hits Sansa like a moving train, taking her breath away.

A realization—a most unwelcome one, but unstoppable all the same.

_Fuck._

_I’m in love with him._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick chapter as an apology for taking so long to update. more to come. xx

“There you go,” he says, not letting go of her hand.

“Thank you, Jon.” Sansa doesn’t know what else to say. Her brain is only now catching up to her heart. She doesn’t move her hand either, not ready to give up his touch. Her eyes sweep his face, searching for something, anything to say. They land on his busted bottom lip. She licks her own. “Please don’t get into a fight again.”

“Worried I’ll hurt the fuckboy?” He asks with a bitter smile.

“I worry about _you_ ,” she replies, more strongly than she would prefer. Jon stares at her in awe. “I care about you, Jon. If you got into trouble over me…”

“I won’t.” He promises, taking a deep breath. “Do you mean you care as a sister or…?”

Sansa evades the question. “You should put something on that cut,” she says, gesturing to his mouth.

“Can you help me with that?” He asks, seemingly focused on staring at her lips.

Sansa nods. She grabs the tube of soothing lip balm in the cabinet below the sink. Squeezing a tiny drop on the tip of her finger, she dabs it at Jon’s plump bottom lip where it’s cut. He flinches at the first touch, wincing in pain.

“Sorry,” she says.

“It’s okay, it just stings a little,” Jon replies, holding her wrist so she doesn’t pull her hand away from his lips. “Go on.”

She touches his lip again, more gently this time, as she spreads the paste on the soft, pink skin. When Sansa is done, Jon kisses her fingertips. Gods, why did he have to make her feel like this? Like there was something pulling her to him at all times, despite her better judgment. Somehow, Jon had gotten under her skin; inside her veins, her head, her heart—and there was no getting him out.

Jon’s eyes fix on hers, and Sansa tries to calm her racing heart. He inches closer, slowly, as if he’s trying not to spook her into running.

“I don’t think we’ll ever be siblings, Sansa,” he whispers. “Not us.”

She knows he’s right. She stays silent.

“How long are we going to keep this charade going?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” she responds honestly.

Jon nods sadly.

“When you find out…let me know,” he says finally. He drops a kiss to the corner of her mouth before leaving.

All alone, Sansa stares at her reflection in the mirror above the sink.

_How long?_

That night, Arya sneaks into her bed.

“Did I wake you?” her sister asks.

“No,” she assures her. “Tell me, how was it?”

Sansa can see the hint of a smile in the dark.

“It was perfect.”

“So, is he your boyfriend now?” Sansa asks, smiling.

“I guess…” Arya says nonchalantly. “Yeah, he is.”

Sansa laughs. “I’m happy for you.”

“D’you think mum and dad will like him?” her little sister asks, voice notably smaller.

“Of course! Anyone with eyes can see Gendry’s perfect for you. They would be weirded out if you brought home someone who’s all posh and not at all like you.”

“Right,” Arya giggles, “that’s more _your_ type, isn’t it?”

“No it isn’t,” Sansa retorts, a little sharper than anticipated.

“What about Harry Hardyng? People have been talking, you know. _Oh!_ I almost forgot! Did Jon really punch him at the party?” Arya asks excitedly.

Sansa sighs. “Yes. They got into a fight.”

“ _Ugh_ , I can’t believe I missed that! Why? What happened? Did Jon win?”

“It was a fight. They were stopped. No one won anything.”

“Come on, Sansy, spill the details.”

“There’s nothing to tell! They were just boys being _stupid_.” Sansa bites out, hoping her sister will believe it.

“How unexpectedly boring.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“That’s okay,” Arya says. “You know who didn’t disappoint, though?”

“Let me guess. Gendry?”

“Damn right.”

After a fit of giggles between them, her sister left for her own bedroom. Sansa stared at the ceiling in the dark, feeling the giddiness fizzle out and the laughter slowly die in her throat. She thought of Jon; of her newfound, but no less consuming love for him; of how she had made a mess of that, too. She wanted to tell him, to lay her hands on his chest and find his lips with hers, and finally _breathe_ , as she hadn’t been able to in a long time… but at the same time, the very idea terrified her. She wasn’t brave. She couldn’t be open like that, not since— _no, don’t think of it, Sansa. It’s no good._

Sansa shook her head, as if the motion alone could dispel the unpleasant memories. She’d never told a soul but Robb, and she never would. _Just think of something else_ , she urged herself. The image of Jon’s easy smile came to her mind, unbidden, and as much as it made her heart ache, it eased the pain, too. Her entire body relaxed against the mattress, heavy and loose. She focused on Jon, on his pretty lips and his kind eyes, until sleep finally took her.

 

The next morning, the sunlight filtered through her windows, touching her face with warmth until she woke. Sansa clutched a pillow tightly to her chest, not wanting to let go of her sweet dreams. Jon had held her close to his chest, the few hairs there tickling her nose… She hummed contently before opening her eyes at last, instantly disappointed when she found he was not there. _Back to reality_ , she told herself grimly before rising and making her way to her bathroom.

Sansa stared into the mirror above the counter as she brushed her teeth. _How long?_

 

As usual on a weekend, her father and the boys—plus Arya—were gathered in front of the TV, watching a sport’s game. Sansa went to the kitchen to see if her mother needed any help with lunch.

“Oh, don’t fret, dear. It’s all in oven already. Lasagna.”

“ _Mmm_. Arya’s favorite.”

“Yes, and Jon’s. Speaking of Jon…” her mother turned to look at her with her eyebrows raised, “you don’t happen to know how he got that bruise on his jaw, and the split lip, do you? I asked, but he’s staying tight-lipped about it.”

Sansa kept a straight face, thinking on what to say. “Maybe have father ask him?”

“Yes. I suppose he would be more open to him. Especially if this was some drunken brawl, as I suspect.” Her mother rolled her eyes and sighed, “ _Boys_. Always getting into trouble.”

“Jon isn’t—” Sansa stopped at once, noticing her mother’s surprise at her harsh tone. Clearing her throat, she continued, voice perfectly even. “I mean, Jon isn’t like that. I’m sure whatever it was, wasn’t his fault.”

“You’re right, dear.” Her mother smiled gently, rubbing her arms. “I had my reservations about him at first, but he’s proven a good boy, indeed.” A timer set off, ringing loudly in the kitchen. Her mother checked the oven. “Oh, the lasagna’s ready. Sansa, will you call your father and siblings to the table, please?”

“Of course.”

 

After lunch, when her mother’s massive lasagna had been consumed in alarming quantities by every Stark present, Sansa settled with a book in the backyard, where the quiet was undisturbed by her family’s excited cheering at the TV inside. Sansa relished the silence, only broken by the occasional whisper of the wind, bringing the smell of flowers and grass to her nose. She closed her eyes for a moment and took it all in. _Perhaps a post-lunch nap would be nice_ , she decided, setting the novel aside and laying on her side on the lawn chair.

Later, she could see Jon looking fondly at her, his dark curls shifting with the breeze. Another dream concocted by her romantic mind… she smiled and reached for him, clasping his hand in hers and bringing it close to her chest. She had no courage to tell him the truth, and so she resolved to appreciate every moment of respite her dreams offered. His other hand came up to tug a lock of hair behind her ear, and Sansa opened her eyes. _Oh Gods._ She startled. He was really there.

“Jon! I-I’m sorry, I-” she sputtered, scrambling for an excuse.

“It’s okay.” A smile tugged at his lips.

“I shouldn’t have,” she protested weakly.

“But you _did_.” He said, as if that settled everything. “You looked so peaceful, just now. I didn’t mean to wake you.” His voice rang with regret.

“You didn’t, really.” She assured him. “It was just a quick nap.”

They looked at each other, neither knowing what to say next. A beat goes by. Another.

“What did you dream of?”

“Nothing.” She lied. _Damn blushing cheeks, don’t you_ dare _expose me now_.

Jon looked down, chuckling. “Of course.” When he looked up at her again, his gaze caught Sansa off-guard. “How long?” He rasped, serious, now, and the question echoed deep inside her once again.

She swallowed. Something pulled her closer to him, an unknown force; close enough that she could count his eyelashes... “Jon, I-”

“SANSA!”

They sprung apart, looking for the source of the noise. It was her mother’s voice, but luckily, she had not seen them. A moment later, she appeared through the back door.

“ _Sansa!_ Oh, there you are.” Her mother’s eyes found her, and she smiled in relief. “There’s a young man here to see you. Harry Hardyng, says his name is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i usually hate posting such short chapters but i felt like it's been too long and i had to deliver _something_. so, there you go. i'll keep writing to post a more respectable chapter very soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking. No, I haven't died. Enjoy. xx

_What on_ earth _was Harry—_ Oh _. Stupid, stupid Sansa,_ she scolded herself. She had invited him over when they had been paired together in Calculus for an assignment. How could she forget?

 

 _Thump. Thump._ Sansa sat at her desk, scowling at the equations, wishing they would either spontaneously combust or solve themselves. _Thump. Thump._ It wasn’t her strong suit, but she _could_ get the limit of this function if it weren’t for— _Thump. Thump._

“HARRY!” She burst out, at last. “Will you _stop_ with that? I’m trying to focus.”

He turned to her in surprise, hand in the air, and the tennis ball he had been throwing against the wall hit him in the face. “ _Ow_ ,” he cried out. “Right in the motherf—” he covered his black eye, still swollen from Jon’s punch.

Sansa winced. “Sorry. I just can’t work with that noise.”

“All right.” He said, raising his hands and sitting on her bed. “No problem.”

“Wait a second.” Sansa narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you done with your part already?”

“Huh? Yeah. Here.” He handed her his notes.

Sansa looked them over. “That’s…” _Oh Gods. He’s worse at this than I am._ “Harry, these are _all_ wrong. Did you even try?”

“Sorry, babe. Math is not my forte.”

“It’s not mine either, but this is…” She rubbed her eyes, trying not to be rude. “Why are you even talking Calculus?”

“My aunt said I have to. Looks good on my college application, I guess.”

“It only looks good if you pass, Harry. How are you going to do that if you don’t even know the basics?”

He smirked. “Oh, not to worry, m’lady. I have Tarly doing all my homework for me. I’ll just find a way to cheat from him in the tests, too.”

Sansa gaped. “Tarly? Isn’t he on the team with you?”

Harry squinted for a moment, clearly confused, then laughed. “No, no. That’s his younger brother, Dickon. I mean the _other_ Tarly. The fat one. I forgot his name.”

“Oh. _Samwell_ Tarly?”

“Yes! That’s the one. Poor kid’s terrified of me.” He chuckled, as if he was telling the funniest joke in the world. “Don’t even remember the last time I did my own homework.”

“You…” _You absolute prick_ , she thought. Sansa didn’t know Sam very well, but she knew he was a kind, shy boy, and he was Jon’s friend, too. “That’s not cool, Harry,” she said instead.

“Oh, come on, Sansa. He’s a bookworm. Probably loves the work.”

“That doesn’t mean you should scare him into doing it for you. Everyone has their own classes to worry about.”

Sansa glared at him, and Harry looked down at his shoes in apparent shame.

“Sorry… I guess you’re right.”

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to _him_.”

“Okay but…” Harry started, and Sansa rolled her eyes. _Everything before the word but…_ “But then I’ll fail all my classes,” he whined.

“Not if you start studying and do the work _yourself,_ ” she countered.

“Sansa,” said Harry, in a tone that spoke of serious revelations, “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not the sharpest tool in the toolbox.”

 _You don’t say_ , she wanted to sneer, but kept to herself. “And you’ll never get any smarter if you keep this up. Do you want to be an uneducated idiot and cheat your way through life until you’re caught?”

“Well… when you put it like _that_ … I suppose not.”

“And how do you expect to make your own decisions if you never rely on yourself?”

“All right, all right. You have a point.” Harry smiles, to Sansa’s utter surprise. “You’re not just smart, you know. You have a good heart, too, Sansa. I like that.”

“Thanks.” Not knowing what else to say, Sansa turns to her desk again.

“Will you teach me?”

“ _What_?”

“You know…Calculus. And how to be a good person and shit.”

 _And some eloquence, to be sure._ As much as he was clueless and downright annoying at times, Sansa found herself hard pressed to say no. She sighed. “Yes, Harry. I’ll help you.” She turned the pages on her notebook to the beginning. “Hold on, let me get you a chair from downstairs.”

“I’ll help!” He said, flexing his biceps as he followed her down the stairs.

She reached for one of the chairs at the dining table, but Harry _tutted_ in disapproval and took it from her, lifting the heavy wooden chair with ease. Going up the stairs, they ran into Jon. _Just my luck_ , Sansa thought. _They better not beat each other up this time._

“Snow.”

“Hardyng.”

“You look well,” Harry said, gesturing to the bruise on his jaw and his split lip.

“Oh, not as well as you, obviously,” Jon retorted, looking pointedly at the big bruise on Harry’s eye.

The two kept staring daggers at each other, neither flinching, until Sansa lost her patience and pushed Harry along.

“It would be great if you two could refrain from having this dick-measuring contest right now,” she mumbled as they went up the stairs.

“Ha! Good one, Sansa.” Harry said loudly, before lowering his voice, “I bet mine’s bigger anyway...”

 _It’s not,_ she almost let slip, blushing furiously. _Watch your mouth, Sansa._

“I heard your brother’s seeing that hockey chick.” He said as they settled in front of her desk.

Sansa whipped her head around, outraged. “Robb has a girlfriend!”

Harry looked at her as if she had suddenly grown a second head. “Your _other_ brother, Sansa. Jon Snow? The surly one we just bumped into?”

“He’s _not_ —never mind.” Sansa shook her head, but the question wouldn’t leave her mind. “Val, you mean? He’s seeing Val?”

“Yeah, That’s what I heard. Val is the blonde he was with at the party, right?”

“Yes,” Sansa replied, feeling her stomach drop.

“Let’s hope getting laid improves his sour mood.” Harry joked, but Sansa couldn’t laugh if she wanted to.

“Let’s get back to work, shall we?”

 

After hours of teaching Harry the basics of Calculus—or rather, the basics of High School Mathematics, in which Sansa was no specialist herself, she felt mind-numbly exhausted.

“Okay, that’s it for today, I think.”

He looked at the notes, as if they had opened up a wormhole to another dimension. “Huh. That wasn’t bad at all.”

“See? You’re not as stupid as you thought.” She half-teased.

“ _Aw,_ stop it, you.” He chuckled. “Thanks, Sansa. You were right.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

“Wait! I was thinking… _um_. We could still go out. On a date, I mean.”

Sansa hoped he wouldn’t bring that up again. She steeled herself. _Might as well rip off the band-aid at once_.

“Harry…I don’t want to date you. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression, because it _really_ wasn’t my intention. I can still help you out, and we can be friends, even, but that’s all,” she explained, hoping he wouldn’t insist, _again_. “Is that clear?”

“ _Ouch_. Okay.”

They walked downstairs and she opened the door for him.

“You’re a tough one, Stark. See ya.” Harry nodded his goodbye.

Closing the door after him, Sansa sighed in relief. He wasn’t _that_ bad, after all. Annoying, yes, and careless, reckless, and selfish, but not entirely unredeemable. Perhaps with a bit of guidance, Sansa could turn Harry into a decent human being. She’d have to be careful, though. It wouldn’t be the first time her assessment of someone was entirely wrong, especially not when a cute boy was involved.

Walking back into her room, Sansa was shocked to find company waiting for her in her bed.

“Jon,” she breathed, closing her door behind her.

He got up at once, closing the distance between them. “Why was he here?”

“I invited him.”

“ _Why_?” He asked again, in an entitled tone that stirred Sansa’s anger.

“For a school assignment. What’s it to you?” She snapped.

“Oh, a _school assignment_ , is it? Is that what we’re calling it?”

“That’s what it _was_.” Sansa bit out.

“That prick was all over you at the party, and now you invite him over and spend _hours_ with him, _alone_ , in your bedroom? You want me to believe nothing happened?”

“ _Keep your bloody voice down_ ,” she warned, “do you want someone to hear us?”

Jon lowered his voice, but his words kept coming out with the same fury. “What I _want_ is to know what the fuck is going on! One moment you do one thing, and the next, you change everything! I don’t know where I stand with you, Sansa!”

“Well, we all _want_ things we can’t _have_ , don’t we?” she retorted.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means I— _ugh_ , forget it!”

“No! I won’t forget it, because I’m _dying_ to know what it is that you actually _want_ , since you won’t be bloody _honest_ with me, you stubborn woman!”

“ _I’m_ not honest? That’s rich, coming from _you._ Acting all _jealous_ now, when you’re probably fucking Val, you _jerk_!”

His eyes narrowed, burning with an intensity she’d never seen before. “You’re jealous too. _Admit it!_ ”

“Of course I’m fucking _jealous_ , you _idiot_! I’m _in love_ with you, what did you expect?”

Jon froze, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “You…” He swallowed.

_Oh no. Seven fucking hells. I said it._

“You’re in love with me?” He asked.

 _Could I deny it now?_ She wondered. But no, he’d heard her well enough.

“You’re in love with me.” He repeated in disbelief. A laugh escaped his throat.

“Glad you find that amusing,” she jibed.

“Oh, but I do.” He said, laughing in earnest now. “You don’t see it, do you?”

Sansa kept her mouth shut, refusing to reveal any more of her traitorous feelings. Jon came closer and held her face, forcing her to look at him.

“I’m not fucking Val.”

Her eyes filled with tears. _Stupid, stupid Sansa._ “But you w-”

“No.” He interrupted her. “I’m not. Not fucking her, not asking her out, not texting her, not interested, not _ever_. I only kissed her on Saturday because of _you_. I saw you with Hardyng and I got jealous. I wanted you to feel the same way. I’m sorry. I know it was low, to hurt you like that, much less to _use_ someone to do it, but— _Gods_ , Sansa, I’ve been in love with you since I first laid eyes on you. It’s been tearing me apart.”

He looked so torn, then; his grey eyes moist and full of sorrow. Sansa couldn’t handle the sight. She wanted to piece him back together—little by little, or all at once, it did not matter. As long as he was whole.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” she said, barely holding back a fresh wave of tears. “I hurt you more, and I’m sorry. I am _so sorry_ , Jon. Can you forgive me?” She felt the tears slide down her cheek, signaling her failure.

His thumbs wiped them away. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

 _How long?_ Her mind echoed. _How long?_

“Jon…”

“Yes?”

“Not a moment longer,” she said, lunging for a kiss.

He caught her in his arms, stumbling backwards until they fell on her bed. Jon turned them around, covering her with his body.

“About fucking time,” he swore into her mouth.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we find out why Sansa guards her heart so fiercely. Warning: it envolves Joffrey, and as you can guess, some past abuse in that relationship. There are no graphic descriptions, nor rape, but I thought I'd better warn you here as well as in the tags, since it’s had such a deep effect on Sansa. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter and the emotional progress she makes with Jon. xx

“Where are you going?! Get back here!”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby.” Jon smiles as he locks the door.

When he comes back to her, he takes her clothes off slowly, leaving warm kisses in his trail.

Jon breathed in her cunt. “Gods, I love you,” he said solemnly before taking his mouth to her.

 _This is heaven_ , Sansa decided. It never ceased to amaze her what Jon could do with only his tongue and two deft fingers. She peaks once, twice, with her toes curling and a pillow pressed to her mouth to muffle her moaning. Before she can reach a maddening third, Sansa brings him back by the scuff of his neck.

“If you keep doing that, there won’t be enough pillows in this world to keep me silent.”

Jon smirked, “I’d like the sound of that.”

“You won’t like it so much if our whole family heard it and barged in here.”

“Point taken.” Jon grinned sheepishly. “Condom?”

“Nightstand. Second drawer.”

It wasn’t the most romantic of settings, with the fluorescent lights of her bedroom, or the way Jon stumbled and cursed after banging his knee on the furniture; but once he was inside her, looking at her like she was something special, had Sansa thinking of all the stupid things she didn’t believe in anymore.

She hated herself for how corny it sounds, but Sansa couldn’t help but think that this was the first time they made love, and not just plain _fucked._

“Sansa,” he panted, “tell me again, _please_.”

Something broke inside her, but not in a bad way. It felt freeing.

“I love you,” she declared.

“Again,” Jon grunted, spreading his hands on every inch of her skin he could find.

“I love you.” She found it easy at last, to say it as their bodies came together, again and again.

Jon’s rhythm faltered, but he continued to love her with growing urgency. “I love you so much, Sansa.” He breathed against her ear, “I’ll always love you. I promise.”

“Jon—” she whimpered, before her words got lost in her climax. Jon met her in her bliss, laying his forehead against hers the moment he peaked.

The kiss they shared then seemed the sweetest she’d ever tasted.

 

“Wow.”

Jon smiled proudly. “Yeah. I know.”

Sansa sat up, covering her chest with the comforter. “We should get dressed.”

“ _Wait_ a second there, little lady.” He took hold of her hand. “You’re not bailing on me again, are you?”

“I…”

“You just told me you love me. Don’t take it back, Sansa.”

Something grounded her, giving her courage. Maybe it was the pleading look in Jon’s eyes, or the warmth of his body next to hers. Whatever it was, it got her talking.

“My first boyfriend was an asshole,” she blurted out.

Jon looked at her with wide eyes.

Sansa took a deep breath and continued, “His name was Joffrey. At first he was charming. I thought he was everything I ever wanted— a blond, handsome prince from an ancient love song— but I was wrong. My golden prince was…not what I thought he was. It wasn’t just a crush—I fell in love with him, and I thought he loved me too, and that we would get married and have children someday, so I gave him my virginity. Then everything changed. He used to compliment me, take me out, give me gifts, treat me like a proper princess…but little by little, he started treating me differently. He called me stupid, and ugly, and worthless. He terrorized me sometimes. But afterwards, he would always apologize. Whenever I felt like utter crap, like I was about to either die or leave him, he would come back and make me feel like I was worth something again, and that I was lucky to have him. I wanted to believe that he would change, that I could live the love story that I dreamed of all my life.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, realizing there were tears streaming down her face.

Jon raised his hand, wiping away her tears with his thumb. His face was serious, but no less caring.

“How did it end?” He asked.

“One day, Robb spied into my room when Joff was there. He had heard him raise his voice to me, and that day I did something I never did before—I talked back to him. I didn’t know how he would react, and honestly, I was afraid to find out. But I did. He backhanded me so hard I fell on the floor. Robb stormed into the room right away, and knocked Joffrey to the ground. They fought, but Robb was stronger. He kept punching him, and he wouldn’t stop until Joffrey’s face was swollen and bloody. I had no reaction; I just sat on the floor, clutching my cheek as Robb dragged him down the stairs and tossed him out of the house. I worried Robb would get into trouble for it; Joff’s mum was a powerful woman, you see. We got lucky, I suppose. His parents got into a sudden, nasty divorce, and his mum fled the country with him and his siblings to escape the legal battle. That was the end of it.”

Jon’s hands had curled into fists; he closed his eyes and breathed deeply before facing her again.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“No. Don’t apologize,” He urged. “You did nothing wrong, Sansa. You opened your heart to someone who didn’t deserve it, and that…that _prick_ deserved worse than he got, trust me. If I was there—”

“Let’s not, okay? I don’t wish him ill. I just wish I hadn’t been so _foolish_.”

“You weren’t! You believed in love, that’s not foolish at all! I believe in love, do you think _I’m_ foolish?” he asked.

Sansa appraised him. “A little bit, yeah.”

Jon couldn’t help laughing. “That’s fair, I suppose.” His laughter turned into a simple smile. “We can be fools together,” he offered.

Sansa smiled through her tears. “I’d like that.”

“I’m sorry if I pressured you too much.” Jon said, looking contrite. “I hate to think that I could have scared you or reminded you of him somehow.”

“You don’t. Trust me, you’re _nothing_ like him.”

Jon sighed, “Good.”

“I haven’t told anyone but Robb…come to think of it, I haven’t even told him, he was just _there_. We haven’t talked about it ever since.”

“Listen. I know you don’t like opening up like that. I understand now; why you shut me out before. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you so…thank you, Sansa. For trusting me. For giving me a chance. I won’t waste it, I promise.”

She looked deep into his eyes, letting the gray clouds engulf her.

“I believe you.”

Jon’s resulting smile could have lit up a room. “So…you’re my girlfriend now?”

“Yes.” Sansa confirmed.

“And I’m your boyfriend?”

“Correct.”

He laughed. “I’ll have a hard time not bragging about being with the most beautiful girl in the whole North.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage.” Sansa smirked, but something made her stop. “Jon, we still have to keep this a secret.”

His smile dimmed, but did not disappear from his face. “I know.”

“If anyone found out—”

“ _It will be all right_ , Sansa. We’ll be careful, and it’s only for a few months, until I turn eighteen. Then we’ll tell everyone.”

“And if our family doesn’t approve?”

Jon seemed to consider it for a moment. “I’ve wanted a family for a long time,” he said. “But there’s no one in this world that can stop me from loving you.”

He held her face in his hands, stemming any worries she might have felt with another kiss.

 

Sansa couldn’t remember when was the last time she was _this_ happy. Maybe when she was six and her parents gifted her with a puppy, or perhaps the time they visited King’s Landing on holiday. But being with Jon, even secretly, was definitely up there with the best moments of her life.

Perhaps it was early to think so, and more than a little silly, but something about Jon made her believe that those classic tales of love weren’t so fake after all. Maybe it was the ridiculous amounts of sex they’ve had these past few weeks, but Sansa was still a (very reluctant) romantic, so she would rather pin it on something else, like the affectionate way Jon would look at her, or the smiles he would give her when no one else was watching that made her melt.

Those precious moments they had together, in whatever form, made something fall into place inside her chest. Sansa thought it was her heart, mending back its pieces, but that was much too sappy, much too soon for her liking, so she pushed away the thought and simply enjoyed it.

 _It_ , in that particular moment, consisted of Jon kissing her neck in the hot steam of her bathroom. His tongue lashed out to track water droplets on her skin, making every nerve ending in her body stand to attention.

He held her firmly from behind, squeezing her breasts with one hand while the other ventured south. Sansa could see it through the foggy mirror, how his fingers tantalizingly flicked her clit before they dipped inside her, making her gasp.

Jon mumbled nonsense against her neck, pressing his erection against her ass.

“Jon,” she whined, bucking her hips against him.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he rasped into her ear, eliciting a shiver.

“Inside. _Now._ ” Was all she managed to answer.

Sansa could swear she saw his reflection smirk before bending her over the sink and pushing inside her. He growls, wrapping an arm around her hips to keep her close as he pounds into her.

There was barely any friction between their bodies, with how wet she was—he had sneaked inside her bathroom just as she got out of the shower, not giving her a moment to dry off. With the way he looked, groaned, and fucked, Sansa would bet he more than liked the slide of her slick skin against his.

“ _Fuck._ We should have done this before.” He whimpered, not taking his eyes off her reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah?” She squeezed around his length when he wouldn’t answer.

“Yes! You’re so fucking _wet,_ Sansa. Gods…”

That made her giggle. “I’m always wet for you, aren’t I?” She teases, feeling more than a little confident when he started to pant and thrust harder.

“ _Umpf_ —I wanna fuck you in the pool next. Untie those flimsy bikinis of yours and just bury my cock inside you out in the open.”

 _Fuck. They never had sex in the pool. That sounded dangerous_. _And immeasurably tempting._

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sansa? I can tell.” His voice sounded infuriatingly smug.

He brought his fingers to her clit again, circling and rubbing the little flesh until she whined and rested her head against the counter, feeling so full, so warm, it was no surprise when her climax brought her over the edge.

Wanting to encourage his own, Sansa pleads, “Please, Jon, please, please cum.”

It takes a couple more thrusts for Jon to follow, but when he does, he comes hard, burying deep inside her and spilling his warm seed everywhere.

They both exhale, bodies relaxing against each other. Sansa can feel his cock softening, his cum dripping out of her slowly.

Jon is the first to speak, still with a raspy quality to his voice. “Being on the pill was the best decision you’ve ever made.”

“Really? I thought it was being your girlfriend.” She teased.

“All right. It’s a close second.”

Sansa laughed. “I have to shower again.”

“I’ll help!” he says excitedly, before she has to cut him off.

“No, you won’t, because we’ll just start having sex again, and we need to get down for dinner eventually.”

Jon deflated. “Right. Your aunt is coming over…”

“And?”

“…With her sleazy, creepy husband.”

Sansa sighed. “I know they’re not fun to be around, but no one likes them except my mum. It will be quick.”

“You sure we can’t find a reason to sneak out?”

“Okay, how about this—you behave like a good boy throughout dinner, and later…you get a reward.”

Jon looked up, clearly interested. “…I’m listening.”

“If you want to find out, you better do as I say.”

“ _Ugh_. I love it when you’re bossy. Gets me harder than a steel rod.”

She laughed out loud at that. “Okay _horndog,_ save that energy for later; I need to wash.”

“Deal.”

 

If it weren’t for her aunt’s fawning over her son at every moment, her husband’s unsettling gaze on Sansa, and her little cousin’s tantrums whenever he felt he wasn’t given enough attention, you could even say dinner was nice.

Oh, who was she kidding? It was a pile of garbage. Even Jon’s hand holding hers under the table couldn’t save this torturous family meal. If her siblings’ faces were any indication, they felt much the same. Arya looked intensely from her glass of grape juice to her own shirt, as if contemplating an idea.

“ _Don’t_.” Sansa whispered to her, “ _Mum will see right through it.”_

Her sister responded with a withering glare and whispered back, “ _You suck_.”

Jon snorted behind his glass, drawing both their attentions.

“What are _you_ laughing at?” Arya grumbled.

“Nothing.” He said, smiling innocently. Under the table, his hand caressed Sansa’s thigh. She looked around, hoping no one noticed her little surprised jump.

Making sure to keep her voice low, she chastised him while holding her glass in front of her mouth, “ _What on earth are you doing?!_ ” Jon stayed silent and kept his fingers on their slow ascension, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Sansa wanted to tell him to stop, but at the same time, if she got any more bored during this meal, she might collapse face-first into the bowl of mashed potatoes. Now, if she could just _stay quiet_ …

Jon’s rough fingers slipped between her legs without warning, teasing her through her underwear, and Sansa choked on her drink. For her utter dread, Mr. Baelish chose that moment to look at her with barely concealed malice in his eyes.

“Is something the matter, Sansa?” he asked, in that slimy voice of his.

Sansa took another sip before clearing her throat and responding. “Perfectly fine, Mr. Baelish. Thanks for asking.”

He smirked, “Oh, sweetling. You know you may call me Petyr. I am your uncle, after all.”

Sansa faked a smile and nodded. “Of course.” She took another sip and looked at Jon, begging him with her eyes to start a conversation before Baelish could.

Jon obliged, looking tense for all his trying to hide it—his knuckles pressed harder against her under the table, but his words flowed easily on the superficial subject of the next football game. Every once in a while, he would throw a scathing glare to the other side of the table, where Baelish sat.

When Jon’s fingers finally pushed aside her underwear, she was more than ready for him. He plunged inside her, curling his finger and gathering all the wetness he could before sliding out and moving on to her clit. He rubbed her mercilessly, testing her ability to maintain her carefully built poker face. When she finally came, squeezing the cutlery in her hands, she at least had the sense to pretend her satisfied moan was a reaction to her mother’s cooking.

“Absolutely delicious!” She lauded, cleaning her mouth with a napkin.

 

A soft knock echoed around her bedroom around midnight.

“I believe I was promised a reward.” Jon says against her doorframe. Sansa pulls him in by the shirt, closing the door behind him.

“You _were_ promised a reward, _if_ you managed to behave yourself at dinner.”

“I think I did good, Sansa.” He argued.

“Fingering me under the table during dinner is _not_ what I meant when I told you to be good, Jon.”

“Well, maybe you should be more specific next time. I mean, can you blame me? That guy was pissing me off.”

She sighed. “You better pray he didn’t notice anything between us. He was extra creepy tonight.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. We’re safe.” He scooped her up in his arms, kissing her head. Sansa felt her muscles relax.

“Can’t stay mad at you for long, can I?”

Jon smiled. “No. Because you _love_ _me_ , remember?”

 “Can’t seem to forget it,” she groaned, pushing him until his back hit her door. “Be quiet now, or you’re definitely not getting _rewarded_ any time soon. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sansa knelt.


End file.
